Waiting Between Worlds
by Ephinera
Summary: Beau had never given much thought to how he'd die, but being attacked and turned by Lauren was not one of them. When he wakes up in his new body, he finds himself in a world quite similar to his own, albeit with a few unfamiliar faces. ["World" crossover. Beau plunges into Twilight alone, turned. BeauxLeah, suggested BeauxEdythe. Slowburn.]
1. Life & Death

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight. All of that belongs to Stephanie Meyer, yadda yadda, I don't make money off this, you know the deal.

**A/N (important):** So, this is fanfic involves literal world-traveling between the setting in Life & Death and Twilight itself. Beau is the only character to awaken or crossover into Twilight, just as forewarning. This all occurs within the story's lore, so be prepared for some open-minded magic involving the Quileute tribal lore. This story directly explores an aspect of it Quileute lore that was discussed within the books themselves, so nothing is 'made up', outside of Beau waking up in a world that is very similar to his own, but filled with vastly different people.

Some things have been modified in the events that occurred in Life & Death to fit this story, namely: the storyline persisted without Beau being turned at the end. A portion of New Moon's plotline will be referenced in Beau's story leading up to Julie Black turning into a werewolf and cutting a helpless, confused Beau out of her life.

**Summary**: Beau had never given much thought to how he'd die, but being attacked and turned by Lauren was not one of them. When he wakes up in his new body, he finds himself in a world quite similar to his own, albeit with people from another timeline. ["World" crossover. BeauxLeah, suggested BeauxEdythe]

**Rating:** Mature, 18+. Death, gore, and heavy romantic elements are not overlooked or glazed over.

* * *

**WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS**

∞ Chapter 1: Life & Death ∞

There was a very good possibility that he was going to die. Beau hadn't given too much thought as to how he'd die, not until recently. When it came down to it, he'd imagined that he'd play a part of his own demise: a hit-and-run one night on the drive back home from work, or contracting some rare, poisonous disease, or even being the sole person in the last ten years in Forks, Washington's history to die from a wild animal attack.

He hadn't expected to die here of all places, in their little meadow in the woods.

The wildflowers were in full bloom. It was February, and just like that day nearly a year ago when he'd come here with Edythe, the sun was out in full force, not a cloud to be seen. It'd been months since he'd been here—even longer since Edythe had left him, as had all of the Cullens—but nature hadn't wasted any time in reclaiming what was hers. Waves of pastel exploded amongst the thick patches of grass like someone had taken tins of pink, blue, and yellow paint and smeared it along the ground. Standing around the edges of the meadow were clusters of pine trees, their heavy branches bowing inward towards him protectively like grey-green sentinels.

The scene would've been perfect if not for the woman standing at the opposite side of the clearing. She was a splotch of ash against the colorful frame around him, someone who stood against the natural order of things.

Lauren.

Instead of being afraid Beau felt a crippling wave of relief hit him. It didn't matter that she was staring at him with bright red eyes; it didn't matter that she was slowly starting to stalk towards him, the smile unfurling on her face equal parts wicked as it was breathtaking. Beau found himself stalk still and watching, desperately tracing over her familiar face with his own sort of hunger. It wasn't Edythe's face, not even Lauren held a candle to her beauty, but it was familiar enough that the sight of it had his heart catching.

"Beau?" She sounded just as surprised as he felt. That helped him relax a little. "Beauford Swan?"

"In the flesh," he could hardly contain his relief. There was something off about the look on her face, something Beau couldn't quite pinpoint what. He reveled in her dark hair and perfect skin, in the unnaturally graceful, cat-like grace with which she moved. Everything about her screamed _**Not human!**_, and yet Beau didn't recoil from the inhuman perfection, he gravitated _towards_ it with all the desperation of a dry drunk.

In the back of his mind he heard Edythe's voice, so quiet at first that he almost thought he imagined it:

_This is dangerous Beau, _she whispered angrily, _Leave!_

How could she expect him to leave though? This was the first time he'd heard her in weeks—he had started to suspect, to fear, that he wouldn't hear her ever again. Lauren smiled at him, unaware as to the internal conflict he was fighting. When she didn't say anything further, Beau felt a prickle of uncertainty touch him finally. Questions began to break through the flimsy barrier in his mind sheltering him from the fear he should've felt. That knee-jerk reaction of self-preservation had never been one of his strong attributes, particularly when it came to vampires.

Why was Lauren _here _of all places, and now?

It was then that it struck him. Beau's eyes sought hers, and the vivid redness of her irises gave her away. They weren't the supple gold or red-brown that he was used to seeing on _his_ vampires—well, no longer _his _vampires really, but rather the Cullens. The unique coloring of their eyes that signified their vegetarian diet was absent, a dead giveaway that despite staying with the Denali coven, she clearly hadn't stuck to their diet.

Beau swallowed thickly, trying to play off his nervousness by reaching up and scratching the back of his head. He hoped he looked more embarrassed than scared to her.

"I thought you were staying with the Denali coven?" He asked after a moment. Pretending that nothing about this situation bothered him in the slightest, Beau took a step forward into the meadow. Edythe growled in warning, but he ignored it, his eyes fixed on Lauren's perfect face.

"I was," Lauren said softly, staring back at him just as intently. "I… admire their restraint, and I enjoyed their company, Ivan especially."

A heavy pause hung in the air until Beau prodded further.

"But?"

"But," she smiled at him humorously, "I felt like it was time to leave. Their lifestyle is intriguing, but I found myself cheating whenever the possibility arose. I'm sure you can understand how difficult that type of diet is for people like us."

And she smiled at him then, like they were in on some shared, secret joke. Beau felt the first thrill of fear strike him then, and it was all he could do to stop from shivering.

_Run!_ Edythe's voice whispered into his ears, the soft, bell-like note of her voice urgent. _Can't you see she'll kill you?_

"I didn't mean for it to turn out this way, Beau." Lauren continued smoothly. She had moved a few feet closer to him, slowly this time, like a predator cautiously staking out its prey. Even though they were a good twenty feet apart, Beau knew she could cross the distance towards him in a matter of seconds if she wanted to.

He could tell it was taking her every ounce of control to restrain herself.

"You see," her whimsical voice carried effortlessly towards him, "after I left the Denali clan I traveled back down south. Would you believe it if I told you I'd run into Victor again?"

Beau nodded slowly. Of course that made sense, why else would Lauren have come this far south again? To see the Cullens? Even if the others had been on friendly enough terms with her after the altercation at the baseball game, there was no chance in hell that Edythe would've seen their relationship the same way. Not when Joss had been so intent on killing him, and Lauren having had been part of her clan had done little to earn her any favors.

No, it made perfect sense that she had come to find _him_.

_Lie to her_, Edythe begged.

"Hopefully it was short and sweet." His mouth was moving but he barely registered what he was saying. All he could focus on was the distracting sound of Edythe's voice. It didn't matter that it was all in his own head, not when she sounded crystal-clear. Beau thought he'd lost her—it'd been weeks since he'd heard her sweet voice. "If you want to visit with the Cullens, they should actually be back from their trip soon."

"Oh?" Lauren arched a delicate brow.

"Yes," he was fumbling, struggling to patch together a plausible story. That thrilling rush of seeing Lauren had evaporated completely now, and while Edythe's voice was just as lovely as ever, the fearful edge to her tone was starting to set his heart into a panic. "They were going on a hunting trip to Northern California for a week—"

Lauren was suddenly closer, though Beau couldn't recall having seen her move.

_Lie, Beau!_ Edythe shouted now inside of his head, _you have to try harder than that!_ But in all of a fraction of a second, he suddenly didn't care anymore.

Lauren had stepped out into the middle of the meadow and the sun touched her finally. Her skin refracted and glittered, a thousand tiny suns reflecting off her body and nearly blinding him. All thoughts left him as the air was stolen from his lungs. It was as if the world had suddenly decided he wasn't worth sustaining now that a creature of perfection had emerged from the shadows. All of its energy—every single drop of sunlight sifting through the canopy above them—seemed drawn to the ethereal creature like a moth to flame.

"I didn't mean for it to be this way, Beau." Lauren purred, her bright eyes glittering like rubies. "But it'll be better this way, you'll see. I'll make it quick, painless—what Victor was planning to do to you… Well, you'll thank me in the end."

_I'm going to die_, Beau thought numbly. He felt petrified under Lauren's hungry eyes, and his legs were as heavy as if he'd stepped waist-deep into wet concrete.

It hit him again and again, turning into a maddening mantra: _I'm going to die. I'm going to die. I'm going to die._

Beau heard Edythe's voice in his head begging for him to run, to try to save himself, but he didn't see the point anymore. Edythe Cullen was not coming back to Forks, Washington. He was a nobody to her, human, just about as imperfect of a match as could possibly be.

As death sauntered towards him, he allowed himself one last reprieve. At least he knew the last year or so of his life hadn't been _purely_ his imagination. If Lauren was real, vampires were real, and that meant all the memories that Edythe Cullen had tried so hard to take away from him were also real.

And that was enough for him.

Beau's body only unfroze right at the end. Suddenly he could feel his legs shaking underneath him and his heart pounding inside of his chest. The panic and adrenaline hit him like punch to the gut, sending him into a desperate frenzy to survive. Edythe was screaming in his ear, telling him to _run_, to _hide_, to do _something. _The desperation to her voice was what stemmed him into action finally. He didn't want to disappoint her, not even at the end.

Beau turned and tried to run, but after just a few steps his sneakers were skidding along the dewy grass, and then Lauren was suddenly there. He felt her cold, marble-like fingers grasp his wrist and snap him back towards her. He flailed like a doll, his body unnaturally twisting back towards her. The force of it was so sudden that his arm swung back awkwardly, and he heard the sickening crunch of his wrist breaking.

Beau shouted in pain—and then screamed when he felt something icy-hot burst inside his shoulder. He never felt the pain of her fangs breaking into skin, only what came afterwards. Beau's face was smothered by thick, dark hair, and as he tried to shake himself free—gasping for breath while twisting and turning desperately in her ironclad grip—the pain from his broken wrist became secondary to the bite. White-hot pain began to spread like wildfire along his skin, a horrifying sensation he had felt just last summer when Joss had tried to kill him. This time it was a thousand times worse, starting from his shoulder where Lauren was… was…

"P-please—" Beau choked. The wet sound of her teeth tearing deeper into flesh—literally ripping him open—was somehow quiet to the obscene sound of her _suckling _on his blood.

His vision started to fade into blocks of white and black. The fire wouldn't let him dissolve into total unconsciousness yet, and instead he felt every agonizing second as it started to consume him live. It was spreading torturously slow, drawing down his arms and encircling its burning fingertips around his throat and heart. He remembered suddenly, vividly, Archie telling him all those months ago that the transition took three days to complete.

_Three days of this, of total hell, if he were to somehow survive._

His head fell back and his mouth twisted open, soundless screams and begs for help silenced by the venom's hold on him. Through the haze of adrenaline and pain, Beau thought for a wild moment that he could hear a wolf howling in the distance.

* * *

He was drifting on an endless ocean. The waves occasionally spilled over him and pulled him under, inciting a flood of fear and terror as he struggled to swim back to the surface—only he never made it. His body was useless and heavy, and all the effort he put into swimming back up simply made him realize the restraints of his frail human body when he sank back under. Beau found himself uselessly swallowing mouthful after mouthful of water, resolved that if he couldn't save himself then he might as well drown himself. _Get it over with already, just die_; he didn't want to struggle under the weight of the ocean anymore.

He might've found it curious that his body could still be burning when he was submersed in water, but Beau had stopped trying to make sense of anything anymore. The fire burned him from the inside out, licking along the his nerves, muscles and bones, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

He just wanted to die.

In the brief moments that he could make sense of the world he realized that he wasn't _actually_ in the ocean, at least he didn't f_eel _he was. He could still make out some kind of wet substance brushing against his skin, but it was so consequential against the all-consuming flame that he hardly noticed it. _Did it really matter in the end?_ He supposed not. Lauren had lied, that was the only thought he clung to, the last memory that persisted in the forefront of his human mind. Beau remembered her fangs digging deep into his shoulder. She had bit him several times, savagely ripping at him with the sort of frenzy with which a lion tore apart its prey.

That was his living hell now, only worse. His body was heavy and immovable, paralyzed from the vampire venom that was slowly working its way through his body. It favored his long limbs the most, seeming to take some kind of sick, twisted pleasure out of giving him the terror-inducing sensation that he was about to drown to death. In the last moments of these suspended, near-death experiences Beau would hear a flicker of the world around him to remind him that he wasn't dead.

Not yet.

"We shouldn't have taken him here." Someone said quietly, but the voice was only distantly familiar, an echo of a husk he might've heard once in the past.

"What else could we have done?"

"Let him die." A female voice interjected coldly. There was no remorse in their tone. Beau wished they were brave enough to let him die. "He won't be human anymore after this. What do you expect us to do with him, Julie?"

"_Save _him!" Julie shouted. "We have to do something—he's _good_. He isn't like the others. He can be different. The treaty doesn't say anything about what to do with humans in Forks that are turned into vampires, least of all people we consider family, Sam. The Cullens didn't do this to him, this isn't even his fault."

"If _you_ had let me go after that vampire alone none of this would've happened." Her voice was fading now. "_You_ made me wait for the others, and by the time we got there it was too late. He's _your_ responsibility, don't you get that?"

"It doesn't matter. We did what was safest for the pack." Samantha Uley's voice was still strong, her resolution unwavering. "Either he dies before he turns, or we will kill him."

_Yes, please_, he wanted to shout. He begged over and over again: _kill me kill me kill me_. Anything was better than the pain.

"The safety of our tribe… no, for _humankind_, comes before anything else Julie."

It grew quiet again. At times Beau felt odd spurts of pain erupt along his arms and legs, different from the normal burning sensation. It was a rough pressure, as though someone was grabbing him and pulling—and it made everything ten times worse. He wanted to cry out to whoever was touching him to stop (and if they wouldn't stop, then to just kill him; he'd never taken Julie or her family for torturers), but his body refused to comply. All the words he wanted to scream, to sob out, died in his throat.

* * *

A new wave of white-hot pain suddenly seared over his chest, drawing dangerously close to his heart. The sound of people whispering disappeared in an instant, and all he could hear was the aching sound of his body's death. Beau's scream was caught in his throat as he was dragged back under the painful tides once more. He tried to focus this time, to ignore the painful sound of his heart hammering against his ribcage. It was sounding more and more frail with each passing minute, and yet it determinedly kept fighting the inevitable, like a bird battering against the bars of its cage.

_It had to be over soon. How much longer can this last?_ And yet some part of him didn't want to know the answer to that, because as far as Beau knew he could've only been burning for a few hours now, not days.

He heard the voices again much later, still quiet, one of them belonging to an older person, the other to someone he knew. Someone who, like Edythe, had carved a gaping hole into his chest.

Julie.

"This is dangerous—"

"I know it is," Julie snapped.

"And it might not even work, you realize that, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I can't stay for much longer then to show you how it is supposed to be done. If what you said was true, then his Burning should be done soon, and if he catches scent of me Julie…"

"I know," Julie's voice was quieter this time, full of guilt and worry. The sound of a branch snapping cut through the air like a gunshot. "I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't have anyone else that could help, mom. I know you don't agree with this, but I can't just… I can't just let Beau die."

"I know." Bonnie sighed heavily. He felt her age in the sound of her voice. "I wouldn't be able to look Charlie in the face again if we didn't try."

It was gravely quiet for several minutes as the two busied themselves with their task. Beau found he could focus much better now; it was easier to form coherent thought then it had before, and it gave him some small seed of hope that it was almost over. The fire was finally beginning to ebb away, taking its final lap back to his heart to finish the job. The ashes it left in its wake—his arms and legs, parts of his chest—felt dead and heavy, but most importantly they didn't _feel _at all anymore. Those parts of him could've been made of stone for all he cared, just so long as they weren't burning.

He listened to the strange sounds around him, trying to distract himself from the venom circling around his heart.

A stick—or something like it—was being drawn around him. It was a slow process, as if someone was drawing multiple circles, or a spiral, around his body. The faint crackling of a woodfire grew louder and louder as more wood was dumped onto the pile. He could smell pine needles and wet dirt, and something else, something both wet and appetizing that stung the back of his throat, but it was still muted against the wilderness draped around him.

Beau tried to lift his hand and give some kind of signal to Julie and Bonnie that he was still here, that he was alive and could hear them, but his body refused to budge.

The venom drew closer yet to his heart.

"In all the legends of our people this has only happened a few times for the tribe. Transference isn't something that can really be taught, Julie." Bonnie's voice cracked. Beau was startled to realize just how close she was to him. "Our people first achieved this by our great chieftain, your ancestor, when he and his warrior brothers left their bodies to join to their wolf counterparts. As you know, his brother wound up killing his human body and it left him locked away inside of their wolf forms."

"They managed to overcome that though and turn back," Julie interjected, as if by some chance Bonnie might overlook that silver lining. "They became the first shapeshifters."

Beau's head hurt trying to understand what they were talking about. Ancestors turning into wolves? Shapeshifting? His head was spinning, but he couldn't be sure if it was because of their words or because his heart had kicked into a new gear and was fluttering wildly. The burning was growing pitch again, so hot that he swore he could smell it, could taste it on his tongue.

"Beau has never left his body like this._ I_ have never left my body like this. No one in our current tribe has," Bonnie said gently. "All we can do is try."

She didn't expect this to work, whatever 'this' was. Beau could practically taste the resentment bubbling off of Julie's skin at Bonnie's weak resolution. He knew she wouldn't stop trying whatever plan she had cooked up in her mind. Julia was one of the most resolved and stubborn people he had ever met in his life. Beau's attention tapered off when he heard them start murmuring again, this time using words that he couldn't understand. He realized after a minute that it wasn't so much speaking as it was chanting. There was a hidden rhythm to the words, a mantra to it, one that was repeated first by Bonnie and then by Julie. A seemingly endless loop, chorus by chorus sang by first mother then daughter, until finally only Julie's voice remained. Minutes passed, hours burned, and then time became inconsequential.

Bonnie was gone, _had_ been gone for some time, yet Beau hadn't quite grasped that yet.

He didn't know if it was another language or if he was simply losing his mind—and there was a strong possibility that it was both. He focused on his burning body instead, exhausted of trying.

No, not his body anymore, his _heart _was burning now.

This was it, the end.

* * *

There was a moment that transpired when the universe drew a line between his life _before_ and his life _after_. In the mountain reserves far north of Forks, Washington, near Neah Bay, a man's humanity was stripped of him and his body was left to rot. For exactly eleven hours and twenty-seven minutes, Julie Black stood alone in the woods before Beauford Swan's twitching, turning body. His body had hardened from the vampire venom, and between the bursts of rainfall and heavy winds, he'd been washed clean of the blood from his wounds. Everything that had made him human vanished before her very eyes: his blood, his deep blue eyes, and finally, in the end, his heartbeat.

Julia Black feverishly chanted the old Quileute song that the first wives had sang over their warrior husbands, once upon a time used to help guide their spirits as they traveled across the astral planes. She heard when his heart began its frantic, final battle against the venom, and she heard when the venom finally snuffed it out.

She had turned then, fur replacing skin, her bones breaking, growing and reforming in a flash of a second to replace the human girl with a great red-brown wolf. Julie waited for an hour for Beau to wake. She kept her distance and paced back and forth amongst the trees, keeping a careful distance between the two of them just in case. She ignored the furious screams of her sisters and brothers inside of her mind. Samantha's howls shook the Quileute reservation and echoed in her mind as she ordered the pack to rush to Julie's location to end this—to end _him_.

Except there was no need to.

With every passing minute Beau's body remained motionless, lifeless. The sickly-sweet smell of vampire was on his body, but it wasn't quite right, not even to Julie's inexperienced wolf nose. There was still something distinctly human about it that gave pause to her hopeful victory.

Her eyes narrowed in on his arms and legs several times, and then his face, sure that she had seen him move—

_Any moment now_, she reassured herself. _Any moment now… C'mon Beau, wake up!_

Only he didn't, he wouldn't… at least not in this world.

* * *

[End Chapter]

Woohoo! Wow, this felt so good to write. I doubt it'll have a huge audience, but for those that do read it I hope you sincerely enjoy it! I try to update once a week, but please keep in mind I work full time. This is a bit of a wild ride so if anyone has questions let me know!

~Ephi


	2. Blood

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight, yadda yadda.

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reading guys! I know it's a bit slow but it'll pick up real quick after this chapter. We have to give fledgling Beau a chance to get his feet wet, don't we? Also on a side note, this story doesn't have a beta (yet), so I apologize if there's any grammar mistakes I missed!

**Rating:** Mature, 18+. Death, gore and heavy romantic elements are not glazed over.

* * *

**WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS**

∞ Chapter 2: Blood ∞

Beau didn't open his eyes at first.

He kept his mind under lock and key, desperately holding on to the nothingness he felt. There was no excitement or giddy sensation that came with being dead, but he supposed that was still preferable to the alternative. He didn't have to think about his human life anymore and how ordinary it'd been without Edythe Cullen. He didn't have to wake up every morning and come face to face with Charlie or anyone else; there was no need for charades, to keep up the false pretense that he was _fine_ when in reality it felt like his chest had been carved open and his heart ripped from his body. It had started to feel better this last month or two with Julie Black in his life—she was as sweet as she was stubborn, and her sense of humor had kept him… _happy_, though he realized now that her company was more numbing than it was healing.

Julie Black was a painkiller, anesthesia, but that wasn't going to heal his wounds in the end. Julie, like Edythe, had abandoned him. There was no explanation or reason behind it, and he was too tired to try to understand it anymore. His quick fix for incurable cancer had failed.

That was in the past now—he had no choice but to let it go. Julie Black would never see his face again as far as he was concerned. He was dead to her, just like he was dead to his father and mother, dead to everyone else in the small town of Forks, Washington.

It was almost a relief that he didn't have to think or care about anything anymore. The fire had finally left his body. He'd blacked out some time ago, the last sound he'd heard was his heart frantically racing to the finish line as the venom snuffed him out. He wondered how long Julie had stood there and kept singing her strange song of life and death. In those last few seconds he had wanted to say something to her. He'd wanted to shout at her to get away from him, that he might turn and try to kill her. He didn't understand how she didn't find his transition frightening. Although Beau had never witnessed it himself—and Edythe had made sure that Archie didn't reveal too much information regarding the transition—he couldn't imagine that it was anything normal to witness.

Then, nothing. Sweet darkness embraced him as his heart gave out. He had broken to the surface of the ocean and was now floating peacefully, his battered body giving up. The fire turned to embers, embers to ashes, and then all that was left was the dead lump of coal his body had turned into.

If this was death, he would gladly take it. No complaints here.

Time had become meaningless. How long had he been gone now - _minutes, hours, or days?_ It already felt like it'd been an eternity, and Beau lost all sensation of time. He'd grown complacent and calm in the darkness of his afterlife.

That was probably why it was so jarring when he suddenly woke up.

Beau's eyes snapped open for all of two seconds before they snapped back shut, the light blinding in its intensity. For one wild moment he was stunned into absolute stillness: was he in heaven? Had he finally crossed over to wherever—if anywhere—he was destined to go? He'd never given much thought to religion or what happened if he died instead of _turned_. Charlie worshiped his Sundays away with a fishing pole in hand, and Renee, his mother, had flitted between churches off and on throughout his childhood. Her interest lasted for as long as it took the next fad to get its grip on her.

Beau dared to take in a deep breath, and then realized this was a drastic mistake. All of that warm darkness, that peaceful displacement he had felt vanished in an instant: the hunger sprung on him like a trap, its razor-like edges cutting up and down his throat. He remembered through his dim, human memories how Edythe had described the smell of blood. She had been drawn to the smell of his blood like a frenzy of sorts, a drug addict surrounded by her favorite brand of heroin. Those words had thrilled him in the past—the whole situation was (if he was being honest with himself) as erotic as it was dangerous—but now he felt nothing of the sort.

Every breath he took was like burning nails dragging down his throat and then dropping into his gut. Beau struggled to just_ exist_ in this moment, forcing himself to take in steadying breaths and desperately hoping that it would ease the hungering pain. It did nothing of the sort. All he existed for anymore was his bloodlust.

_I need blood._ The thought came to him naturally. He craved it, _revered_ it.

Beau choked on his breath and opened his eyes again. The glare of light was blinding, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted and overcame the rainbow of colors. The source of it was the sun, not some ethereal glow greeting him from heaven's gates.

There were three things he noticed a fraction of a second:

One, he was in the woods, in a place he had never seen before in his life. The trees surrounding him were hunkered and twisted, older than anything he had ever seen around his home in Forks, Washington. Ferns cropped up in clusters around the clearing he was lying in, framing a near-perfect circle around his body. It was almost protective in nature, as if whoever had brought him here had made sure no one would see him unless they were walking directly nearby.

Two, Beau was almost positive that he had been lying here for days (if not weeks). With each gasping breath came a mouthful of the scent of dirt and sweetness from the surrounding vegetation. There was no indication of Julie's presence in the clearing—it was as if she had vanished, no traces of her scent remaining. Beau felt a twisted mix of relief and anguish: the part of him that was still raw and _human_ was relieved she wasn't around to face his hunger, and the other part of him, the vampirism—the newborn part of him that was trembling with hunger and viciously swallowing every logical thought that crossed his brain—was disappointed that she wasn't.

_How long have I been lying here? _He wondered, wincing as his throat constricted painfully. _Where is Julie?_ _I… couldn't have been here__** that**__ long, right?_ He didn't know how that was possible, unless… unless Archie had _lied_ to him about how long the transition was supposed to take, but he couldn't see any reason he would've.

_Is turning different for everyone?_ Beau swallowed again thickly, cringing at how _dry_ he felt on the inside.

The final thing Beau noticed was that he could move again. The second this reached his brain—which was processing what felt like a thousand things in each passing moment—he was suddenly standing. He didn't have to move so much as _think_ about it, and then his body responded, lifting him to his feet effortlessly. It was more than just the fact that the heaviness had left his limbs: he felt _weightless_ now, a natural-born confidence to his movements that human Beau had never experienced before in his life. He had transformed from human to vampire, sprung from the death cocoon he'd been smothered in and forced back out into the living world.

One he didn't want, not without her. Without Edythe.

"What do I do?" Beau asked no one, then shivered at the sound of his own voice. His eyes went wide—was that really _his_? He spoke again just to hear the warm, unfamiliar tenor of his voice.

"What _should_ I do?"

Edythe's name hung silently on his lips.

His dead heart clenched painfully at just the thought of her name, a reminder that while he'd survived this encounter with Lauren, it was far from over. _She'll be so angry when she finds out._ And then suddenly it hit him like a bag of bricks: _how _was he supposed to find them?

The Cullens had made a point to wipe themselves off the face of the earth. _It'll be like we were never here,_ Edythe had said, and she'd made good on her promise. The only thing that Beau had been able to find as a shred of proof to their existence was the pictures of them in his high school yearbook. He had purchased it just to make sure that he hadn't imagined them. For _weeks _he had obsessed over looking at their small, square pictures, reveling in how perfect they were even in those tiny snapshots, and then hating himself when he caught a glimpse of his pale, boringly human appearance in his own pictures.

He didn't have a phone number for any of them. He didn't have a single clue as to where they might've gone. And even if he _could_ somehow stomach the smell of humans to the point of not wanting to kill them on sight, returning to the Cullen residence would do little more than remind him that they were gone. Their scents would've washed away after all these months.

And yet… that was suddenly all he wanted to do. He wanted to go back home, but not to Charlie—_god, could he ever be around Charlie again? _No, he wanted to go back to the Cullens, to be welcomed back with open arms now that he was just like them. Several realizations punched him in the gut all at once, each one more painful than the last: he hadn't been able to say goodbye to Charlie or his mother, and he never would. He wouldn't be able to say goodbye to his friends (though he only really had one friend in mind that concerned him). They would be searching for him just like that fateful night that Edythe had left him. On that night he'd wandered so deeply into the woods that he'd gotten lost and passed out, and the only difference between then and now was that Charlie would never find him. He would—_is_—dead to them, or would be, if they hadn't already given up on their search. Beau felt his heart squeezing painfully in his chest again, and it was all he could do to remain upright. He hadn't expected to feel so weak, so _human_ and emotional after turning, but like all his other senses everything had merely become ten times more intense rather than vanishing altogether.

He was going to be sick. He didn't know what to do—return to Forks, or find some other way? Why had Lauren bitten him and then left him?

_Why did Edythe leave him?_

All those thoughts and feelings became secondary when he heard movement nearby. It was so faint that he thought he might've imagined it, but with every passing second it solidified in his ears. Soft footsteps were crawling through the forest nearby. It didn't sound human—how Beau knew this he couldn't be sure, he simply _knew_—but whatever it was had a pulse.

It had blood.

His throat burst into flames with vengeance, the pain so strong that Beau groaned, and his hands shook. His body twisted in the direction the small herd was moving and then he sprung forward into action. The world flashed around him as he sped through the forest. His feet found hidden paths among the underbrush, guiding him around the twigs and vegetation that would've alerted his prey that he was approaching. He was gasping at the air, smelling and inhaling the earth and wind until he caught the scent he was looking for.

_Blood._

The herd of animals—deer most likely, though his suddenly vacant mind hardly cared _what_ they were, just that they had a pulse—was moving just north of him. They were moving slowly now, though it wouldn't have mattered even if they were already sprinting to save their lives; they were too slow compared to him. Even when he burst into the small clearing they were passing through, and he paused for just a split second, his newborn eyes taking time to understand everything before him…they didn't stand a chance.

The deer bolted. Beau felt like he was flying across the open field after them. His mind detached from his body and he became nothing but an animal when he finally closed in on the nearest one. He grunted when his body crashed into her and they flung to the ground. She squealed wildly in his ears, and that squeal turned into a scream when his mouth found its way to her neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her chest and throat, instinct guiding him to squeeze—squeeze _hard_, until he felt her delicate body break in his grasp and she was silenced. His teeth ravaged against her, tearing through dirt and a thick pelt until it pierced her flesh.

Hot blood exploded in his mouth. Beau would've groaned aloud if he could manage to pull himself free from her, but he couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. The flavor of the doe's blood wasn't anything he'd consider extravagant (though he scarcely had anything to compare it to), but it was filling, and that was all he cared about. He drank in heaves, swallowing mouthfuls until there was nothing left.

And then he killed another, and another. Each of them drained dry. Even when his body felt overbearingly full Beau couldn't bring himself to stop. The frenzy had taken over him completely, stripped him of his humanity until all that was left was hunger. It wasn't until he could practically feel the blood sloshing back and forth in his gut that he finally pulled away and fell back onto the grass.

He could think clearly again, both a blessing and a curse. He let himself sit there for what felt like hours when only minutes passed. He stared at everything in wonder, letting himself have just a moment before he had to face the choices looming ahead of him. The world had become clear to him now: clear and pristine and breathtaking. Everything was more pronounced than it used to be, as though he had been looking at life through dirty lenses when he was human. Light glinted off everything—the grass, the trees, even the glistening blood that now stained the ground—giving it an almost surreal glimmer. Dust motes danced in the air, brought to life by the heat of the sun. There was an indescribable color that he'd never seen before, a seventh shade to a spectrum that should've only had six. His human eyes hadn't been able to detect it before, but now he saw it with stark clarity. Beau had hated the green, alien world that was Washington when he'd arrived all that time ago, but now he marveled in its alien visuals.

It was only when a flurry of clouds broke over the sky and blocked the sun that he was brought back from his stupor. That sinking feeling was creeping up on him, reminding him that everything else he'd just done was secondary to what he had to decide now.

Beau considered his options carefully, breathing deeply. He could hide somewhere, possibly even here (wherever _here_ was), until he was sure that he wouldn't be a threat to humans. As dismal of an idea as it was to make a forest his home and 'rough it', it was a very real possibility that he'd have to do just that.

The second option, though it somehow felt forbidden, was finding the Cullens and begging them to take him back. He didn't know how Edythe would receive him other than being angry over his lost humanity. She had shunned him because of his humanity. She had left him over it, which Beau painfully understood and accepted. He had been frail, unbalanced, and as prone to danger as though he were a literal magnet for it. But that shouldn't matter anymore.

_That's in the past now,_ Beau thought, breathing deeply. The smell of animal blood was starting to become unpleasant. _The only excuse she has now is that she never wanted me to begin with, and that couldn't possibly be true. _If she hadn't cared about him in the slightest Beau knew he would've died a long, long time ago.

As pathetic as this was, it gave Beau the first real feeling of warmth since waking up (apart from the blood he'd just gorged on).

Grimacing at the blood and dead carcasses around him—_was he supposed to do something with them? Edythe had never specified… she had been horrified at the idea of him watching them hunt_—he sprung to his feet. His sneakers squelched as he walked, just as saturated in blood as the rest of him.

* * *

Days passed, and with them so did his patience.

He hadn't taken a single breath in almost two hours. Beau didn't dare to, not this close to civilization. He'd been practicing for the last few days, but no matter how many times (or how long) he managed to resist the urge to breathe, he still couldn't get used to the uncomfortable sensation that came with it. His lungs felt oddly deflated with no air in them, like two empty balloons were hanging uselessly inside his chest. What was worse was the lack of scent. He couldn't smell his surroundings anymore, something he'd now come to rely on as second nature.

"In and out," Beau muttered by accident, a knee-jerk reaction when he'd spotted the first sign of human life: a dingy green sign that announced he was entering Clallam Bay. He had officially returned to the human world. Small mistakes—whispers of encouragement and restraint that he kept feeding himself—kept escaping until finally he could scarcely feel any oxygen in his lungs.

And by that time he'd already stepped foot into Clallam Bay, and there was no going back as far as he was concerned. It was a small, struggling town, making Forks look grand by all comparisons. Beau would've overlooked Clallam Bay entirely if not for the rumbling sound of a semi-truck passing by. He wasn't ready to be around humans, Beau _knew_ that, but he couldn't stand it anymore. If Edythe wanted to chide him for his irresponsibility, then he would take it in stride.

A quiet, small part of him still wondered _if_ he would manage to find her. He didn't want to consider the possibility that he might be on his own for months if not years before he found a trace of their existence again.

It wasn't just the uncertainty of his future that was getting to him, it was everything else: the loneliness, the emptiness.

No matter how full of life the Olympic northwest range was, it starved him of company to the point that Beau had taken to talking to himself. Only his thoughts kept him company otherwise; and there was no break from his worries, fears, and the hunger that sprung up on him at every turn. It was driving him mad, this guilt and fear that came with his new life. Everything was made worse by the steady rainfall since he'd awoken, something else he hadn't anticipated. A vicious storm had swept over Neah Bay and soaked him to the bone, and he hadn't been able to shake it since. The cold didn't bother him but the wetness did. Being perpetually wet had drowned what little spirit he had left. His clothes were soaked, too, not just from the rain but also blood-stained from his sloppy feeding. He'd been forcing himself to hunt almost every day now, too paranoid to take any chances.

He wanted to be prepared for when he smelled a human the first time.

As the days passed, Beau slowly solidified a plan of action: he would use Clallam Bay as his first test. If he could withstand breathing (and thus withstand being near humans) then he could make the trip south back home. He also desperately needed new clothes, not just to get rid of the blood but to finally feel _normal_ again. He was tired of his shirt and jeans clinging to him like a second skin, and his shoes were battered to hell and back.

Unfortunately, new clothes meant going into town, which meant surrounding himself with humans.

Beau knew without a doubt he'd kill someone if he wasn't careful.

It was nighttime when he stumbled onto the edge of Clallam Bay. He shied away from getting too close, deciding to take baby steps as he observed from a distance. There was only one street through the town and four small stores. The buildings were dilapidated and looked on the verge of collapsing. Tacky hand-made signs hung outside the stores with the store names written in bright red and black. Beau froze each time he saw a human, his muscles clenching in anticipation of his sudden loss of control… and each time passed mercifully, his clean record kept intact. When he saw an elderly man finally step out of a small store called Compass Rose Gear & Gifts, he decided to take his chance. The man finished locking up the store and then trudged towards his truck. It kicked to life with a rumble and then sped off, swerving down the small road to wherever hole-in-the-wall he lived.

Beau didn't risk waiting for another green light. A small whisper of caution pressed in on him when a few men slogged into the bar across the street, but Beau kept moving, refusing to let his resolve wane. They weren't paying any mind to the dark store across street. They moved sluggishly and were laughing loudly, already intoxicated before they started their round at the bar. It was dark and late, and if he crossed paths with anyone now, he'd just have to face fate head-on.

He was silent as he glided from the trees towards the Compass Rose. Beau couldn't stop looking around him, his eyes continuously drawn to the bar. He chalked up his paranoia to feeling on edge without the security of smell. Once he was at the entrance of Compass Rose, time seemed to speed up.

The lock broke with ease, and no alarms triggered when he stepped inside the dingy store. Even though it was dark inside he managed to wrangle himself through the tiny isles until he found what he was looking for: a hiking backpack. He ripped it from the wrack and threw some clothes into the bag, including a pair of sturdy-looking boots.

He didn't let the guilt of stealing get to him—he'd already resolved he would pay the man back someday (and then some) but right now Beau had to focus on the _here _and _now_ if he was going to keep his sanity in check. He shoved a pair of socks into the bag before quickly making his way back towards the exit.

It was when he went outside that everything went to hell.

* * *

Standing before him was a teenage boy with crudely cut black hair and warm, coppery skin. Beau's mind splintered in several directions simultaneously:

_Get out of here. Get out of here. Get out of here._

_…but what if he remembers my face?_

_Act natural—respond like a human would._

_Why didn't I notice him? Sure, I can't smell him, but I didn't hear a single footstep—_

_Get out! Get out!_

"Who are you?"

He was about to split—just run, let the kid think that he was a figment of his imagination (Beau was making a point to ignore the fallacies of his plan, such as the obvious signs of break-in and missing items that couldn't be imagined away)—but the question caught him off guard. Most people would've demanded to know_ what _he was doing, not _who_ he was.

His hesitation was enough to feed the kid enough courage to step closer. A measly ten feet separated them. Beau watched, transfixed, as he had the audacity to move to stand in the doorway, blocking his exit. It would be so easy to just knock him aside and rush past him, and yet…

"I—I know you can hear me," the boy fumbled in his courage, as if he had finally noticed something off about him. _Good,_ Beau thought—no, _begged_. _Just leave. Step aside and let me leave._

"Who are you?" The kid repeated.

Beau finally looked at him. Really _looked_. He was immediately reminded him of Julie, another unexpected blow. He couldn't have been older than fourteen, fifteen maybe. Despite how brave he was trying to look, his full cheeks and the gentle curve of his jaw gave away his true age. He was wearing a black tank top and jean shorts in the dead of winter, something that stood out as strange in his mind.

Beau took a step forward, hoping that whoever this kid was would catch on to the fact that he was dangerous. Beau didn't dare open his mouth and breathe in to speak. That was a last resort.

_I won't kill anyone._ He resolved. _I promised I wouldn't kill anyone. If Carine could do it, so can I._

He _refused_ to kill anyone, least of all some teenager from La Push. Even if he never intended to see Julie again, Beau didn't think he could live with the guilt of knowing he murdered someone from her tribe. He took another step forward, and another, and finally the kid seemed to get the point. He took one hesitant step back, but otherwise held firm. It seemed whatever human gene that instilled a sense of self-preservation was missing from this kid.

"Listen, my mom's across the road at the bar."

_He's lying._ Beau heard the spike in his pulse. But there was something to his words that held a partial truth, as if he had already told _someone _he was here. Beau remained mute, staring back into the boy's bright brown eyes.

"All it'll take is one shout and everyone will come running to see what's going on." His brave words didn't match the quiver in his voice, nor did it match the way his entire body had started to shake. There was something off about this, too. The way he was shaking was… _abnormal_. It wasn't so much like he was in fear as something else—and that something made the hair along his arms and back start to raise in warning.

Maybe there _was_ something wrong with him. Beau remembered joking to Edythe about how there had to be something wrong with his brain if she couldn't hear his thoughts. Maybe now that he was a vampire, that same wrongness had crossed over. Except this time, it had manifested into something that was _broken_.

_What am I still doing here?_ This boy wasn't a threat. Beau looked past him towards the dark abyss. His escape was waiting for him. He'd made a mistake coming here, and he wasn't going to allow it to be the ruin of him.

Beau took a chance and ran for it, and that was when the night took another awful, unexpected turn.

In all of three seconds the entire world was flipped on its head.

The boy jumped back, allowing him out of the Compass Rose and into the night. Just as Beau was picking up pace and heading like a bat out of hell for the forest, the sound of clothes splitting—ripping so loud that it forced him to jerk back and look over his shoulder to see what was happening—followed by the heaving sounds of harsh, loud panting flooded the air.

Standing in the place of the boy was a sandy-colored wolf. It was larger than any wolf he'd ever seen before, almost the size of a small horse. It was growling viciously at him, its entire body trembling from head to toe just like the boy had been.

_He turned into the wolf!_ Beau's jaw went slack. He jerked back and drew in a ragged breath, forgetting everything he had planned. Everything he had worked so hard to preserve had become second thought to the threat that stood before him now.

He heard himself shout: "_What the hell?_"

And then it lunged for him.

Beau swerved to the right, his vampire vision struggling to keep up with the movement. Not only was it bigger than any wolf he'd seen but it was faster, too. He had to focus hard, forcing himself to ignore the wonderful, horrible, _painful_ smells clogging up his throat and lungs. He smelled _human_: body odor and fluids, perfumes and cologne, along with the heavy smell of whiskey and other liquors. None of it was spared from him, especially not the wolf before him.

Just as Beau feared, he could smell the blood pounding through the wolf-boy's body… and it made his stomach curdle in displeasure at the scent alone. It was the only thing that kept himself grounded in place and stopped him from charging straight across the road to the bar, where a room full of humans were innocently unaware as to the chaos unfolding outside.

The wolf's paws dug deep into the ground before it swung back around to face him and charged again, growling and snapping at the air. Beau was ready this time. He tracked him carefully and, just as it lunged towards him—its bright white fangs gleaming in the darkness—he pivoted and gracefully dodged its attack. And then he ran, and he didn't stop.

He didn't know what was going on or how any of this was possible, but he had to leave, and he had to leave _now_.

Just as he broke into the forest, he heard them sounding off: howls in the distance. They were far enough away to not be an immediate concern, but that hardly mattered when he could hear the wolf behind him barreling through the woods after him.

* * *

The water exploded when he landed in it. Beau lunged forward, dragging his legs through the water as quickly as he could go. He propelled himself forward whenever he was able to get a grip on the slippery rocks. All around him the forest was wild with noise: branches snapping, bushes crushing and smashing to the ground as the chaotic hunt continued. The wolves were snarling and growling. Beau could make out the sound of their fangs grinding as they snapped and bit at the air.

It'd taken only a matter of twenty, maybe thirty minutes before the others had joined the first wolf.

Beau had caught a glimpse of a black wolf leading the charge, but the bulk of them—_how many he couldn't tell, maybe four? Five?_—were further behind.

_What are they?_ They couldn't be normal wolves, and _shapeshifter_ seemed too lenient of a term to describe their ferocity. Beau cringed at the term werewolf, but it was the only thing that made sense.

Werewolves in Forks. Vampires in Forks. What else had Edythe hidden from him? Witches? Mummies?

Beau's mind was in a frenzy. Instinct kept him running. He could feel his muscles pulsating as they soaked up the blood to keep him fueled. He didn't know how much longer he could do this—not that he was tired, but Beau didn't know _when_ it would stop, and he couldn't just keep running forever.

Twice the sandy-colored wolf had gotten too close to him, snapping and lunging at his side. He'd gotten braver as his pack had closed in, and Beau knew he had to act. He might've been able to handle one of them, but if he didn't find a way to deter an entire pack from chasing him then it would quickly be over. When he had leapt across a large river and the wolf followed close behind him, he'd turned and struck the beast hard across his right shoulder. A sickening _crack!_ told him he'd struck home. Beau didn't turn to watch as it struck the ground and went still, whining and whimpering from the pain.

For some bizarre reason he couldn't even begin to fathom, the painful noises struck a chord of guilt inside him.

The pack had splintered after that, several of them flanking behind to look after the injured one while two others pursued him. They followed him further south until he'd lost track of where he was, and it wasn't until he struck water again that an idea finally formulated in his mind. He rode the water, using the distance he'd placed between him and his hunters to trail along it as far as he could. If he could just get rid of his scent—mix it with the water, or wash it away—then he might stand a chance.

The only problem was how slow he moved this way.

He dragged and ran, jumping when he could, and for the first time since his new life had started, he felt relief when the first crack of thunder roared overhead. Almost immediately a heady gust of wind and hard sheets of rain attacked the earth. The water snapped against him and bit at his skin, almost like it was as angry as the wolves that he might actually get away.

He could hear his pursuers a short distance away; they were finally starting to slow down. It gave Beau a glimmer the glimmer of hope he needed to keep going.

And then for some unfathomable reason, the wolves stopped following him altogether. It was too abrupt not to make Beau pause, his eyes raking along the dark trees suspiciously.

_Why did they stop?_ He doubted they had lost track of him completely.

Beau came to an absolute standstill after pulling himself free from the river. The backpack he'd stolen hung heavy down his shoulders, all the clothes and goods he'd taken just as wet as the rest of him. He stared long and hard, every shadow of movement making his teeth grind in anticipation. He didn't dare to move for fear of attracting his hunters again. He took short, quick breaths, only because he wanted to smell them if they were trying to sneak up on him—

But nothing. Absolute quiet, save for the howling rain and gurgling river.

Not trusting his luck to stay for long, Beau moved slowly, turning away from the river to face what he assumed would be another long stretch of forest. If he hadn't already been so alert, he might've missed the faint light poking through the trees.

Suddenly he recognized where he was. Now that he wasn't running for his life, all the little details he'd missed sharpened into vision. He could make out the gentle curve of the river he'd just escaped. Before him was a small hillside and two clusters of trees; a narrow path separated them, one that he'd taken often during his visits in the past. The path was overtrodden with bushes and vegetation now, but the packed, exposed dirt stuck out to him. He knew it would lead further into another clearing where an enormous house stood. He pictured in his head the glass walls that framed the side of the house nearest him. He remembered how, if one stood on the balcony of the third floor, you could see the very river that he was standing beside now.

It was the Cullen residence.

Beau exhaled sharply, hands shaking from pure adrenaline.

His footsteps were silent as he made his way up the path, pushing aside the overgrowth. The faint light grew brighter and brighter, coaxing him forward as if it had placed an enchantment over him.

_They're back._ The smile on his face felt foreign, almost painful. _Archie saw me—they saw me and they came back!_

He stepped into the clearing and simply stared. It was everything he remembered and then some. The multi-car garage was open, revealing a black Mercedes. He'd never been a car guy, but the sheer happiness he felt at the sight of Carine and Earnest's car was indescribable. It was only their car that he saw, but it hardly mattered.

They were home. _He_ was home.

The lights were on in the first floor, but the heavy curtains kept him from making out anything else. He saw glimpses of a pair of shadows moving.

Exhilarated—not an ounce of fear left from his pursuit—he glided across the lawn towards the porch. The air smelled cool and pleasant for a change, and he realized in amazement that what he was smelling was vampire. Where the werewolves smell had made his stomach twist in disgust, like he was getting a strong whiff of wet dog, the smell of his kin had the opposite effect.

Beau reached for the door, but it opened before he had a chance to grab it.

A man stood before him. Tall, lean, wearing a white button-up shirt with collared wrists that were neatly pressed. He had on black slacks and polished shoes. If not for his scent, Beau would've been able to easily tell he was vampire due to his abnormally pale skin and dark golden eyes. His hair was bright blond and neatly combed back. Behind him, Beau spotted another vampire, a woman. Her body was mostly hidden behind his tall frame, but he could make out the soft, dark brown curls that draped around her kind face. She was looking at him curiously, a gentleness to her face that he recognized… and didn't.

He had no idea who these people were.

"Hello there," the male spoke first, his voice kind but intent as his eyes took in his disheveled state. "I didn't realize we were expecting company, especially not so late of an hour."

"Sorry, I—I thought that—" Beau exhaled in shock, glancing from one unfamiliar face to the next. _Who were these people?_ "I was coming to see the Cullen family. I saw their lights on and I thought… well I thought that they might've been home."

For a moment both sides became intensely silent, until finally the vampire offered him another friendly (if not slightly confused), smile.

"Then you've come to the right place," he said gently.

Beau stared at him in confusion.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen, and this is my wife, Esme."

* * *

[End Chapter]

*prays you guys enjoyed it*

Special thanks to:  
\- DxGRAYxMAN  
\- Guest  
\- sentinel10

Your guys reviews were very much appreciated!

~Ephi


	3. The Cullens

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, not making any money off this, yadda yadda.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and reviewing guys! This story was derailed and updates were not made mostly due to a notice that I'd placed in my author's profile. For those not aware, someone dear to me passed away and I was struggling for a long time in all aspects of life. Creative writing was the last thing on my mind, as a result, but I am back. I am hoping for updates every week or two moving forward.

**Rating:** Mature, 18+. Death, gore and heavy romantic elements are not glazed over.

* * *

**WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS**

∞ Chapter 3: The Cullens ∞

Beau was still debating whether he was in hell or not almost an hour later.

He was seated on one of the couches that Esme—Esme _Cullen_, as he was being led to believe—had just uncovered. The rest of the furniture in the living room was still draped in white cloth, reminding him again just how long the Cullens had been gone for. In the far corner of the room Edythe's piano lingered like a ghost, drawing his gaze every few seconds. Although it made his heart clench painfully, the sight of it was reassuring in a bittersweet way.

It was proof he was in the right house, at least.

"We would've had the house in better shape if we'd known that we were going to have company." The male, Carlisle, was talking to fill the silence. He swept through the room with practiced ease, freeing the furniture of their covers piece by piece. Beau wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, as he was hardly a guest to them, but his mouth was zipped shut. He was still far too shocked to speak properly—he hadn't quite wrapped his mind around their names yet.

_Carlisle Cullen. Esme Cullen_. For a moment he wondered if parts of his human memory had been blacked out, like some top-secret document had had all the classified bits of information purposefully hidden; but he knew deep down this simply wasn't the case. He would've remembered people like this, people who bore such a striking resemblance to the family he knew. As far as he was aware, Carlisle and Esme Cullen were strangers wearing the names of people that he loved.

He sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, debating whether they would find it rudeif he were to suddenly get up and leave. He could not though, Beau realized with a sinking gut. The werewolves might come after him again, and where else was he supposed to go? Either this place and these people were a delusion, or they were real, and he had simply woken up in the wrong place. _Which was utterly mad to even consider, wasn't it?_

After several deep breaths, Beau managed to wrangle the urge to flee down. He was here now, right where he wanted to be. He'd been daydreaming of this moment since he'd woken up and running away now wouldn't do him any good. There had to be a logical explanation for this, there_ had_ to be. Beau took in another deep breath, absentmindedly pressing his hands against the sides of his jeans, trying to soothe his jumbled nerves. He hardly noticed he was still wet and filthy, just like he didn't seem to notice he was staining expensive, quality leather. If Carlisle or Esme noticed or thought badly of his behavior, neither of them said anything.

"What he _means_ to say is that it isn't often we have surprise company," Esme kept her voice light and teasing. Beau slowly began to realize they were trying to calm him down. He must've looked worse than he thought he did. "We're glad to have you, even if we still haven't quite pieced together exactly _why_ you came here."

"Not that we don't want you here," Carlisle reassured. "We just got back ourselves. Only a few hours before you showed up, actually."

The way he said _got back_ made it seem as though he hadn't been gone for very long, and yet that was impossible, wasn't it? Beau's head was spinning, churning out a thousand impossible questions with answers he knew wouldn't make sense. _Was_ he dead? _Was_ he imagining all of this? He looked at them again, trying not to be so obvious about it. They looked and smelled real enough. In fact, they eerily reminded him of Carine and Earnest…

"More of our family should be returning soon as well. The timing of all of this is just… impeccable."

He hesitated just long enough for Beau to understand what he meant to say. Carlisle thought that that his arrival wasn't _impeccable _so much as it was _inconvenient_. He didn't dwell on it long, too focused on what Carlisle had said just before that.

"By the rest of your family," Beau said slowly, staring between the two of them. "Would you happen to be referring to Edythe? Or Archie?" Beau could hear the desperation coloring his voice.

It was silent for only a handful of seconds, but it was enough to make him shift uncomfortably. He was still getting used to the sensation of timelessness; minutes were now as weightless as seconds. An hour could've passed by and he would've hardly noticed. Beau thought that he'd already adjusted to just how easy it was to pick up on small details and colors he'd never noticed before, but he was again shocked by what stood out to him now. What he might have overlooked as a human did not pass by him now: Beau caught the look that Carlisle and Esme silently shared. He saw the way Carlisle's lips twitched into a frown for just a split second before carefully leveling out. The couch shifted as Esme joined him, however subtly, taking care to seat herself at the opposite end. He didn't know whether the distance was for his safety or her own.

"No Edythe or Archie," she said gently, before glancing at Carlisle again, "but the others—we consider them to be like our own children—are similar in age to you. Well, at least in looks."

"I can't help but feel that we're falling short of whatever expectations you had of us." Carlisle eased back into the conversation. "Let's start over from the beginning, just so we can get a better understanding of what's going on."

Beau wasn't sure that any of them would be able to understand the tangled mess he'd gotten himself into, least of all himself.

"Why don't you start with your name?" Esme asked softly, lacing her fingers together and resting them on her lap. "Tell us how you heard about us."

Her husband came to settle just behind her, leaning against the armrest. Both were staring at him expectantly, and if Beau had been human, he would've turned as red as a tomato from how embarrassed he felt. _Have I been so out of it that I didn't even introduce myself? _The night had passed by in a blur of panic, fear, and then relief—it was highly possible that he'd been too shocked by the sudden twist of events to properly introduce himself.

"My name is Beau S—" His last name hung on the tip of his tongue. Something inside of him quietly whispered to him to _lie_. It wasn't Edythe's voice that told him this, but rather some manifestation of himself he didn't know existed until this moment. Self-preservation. Instinct. He stared into their gentle, curious faces, and struggled to imagine them as bloodthirsty, _dangerous _vampires.

_Lie_, the voice persisted. If this _was _real, after all… if these people were real and who they claimed to be, then logically that meant other things here might be different too. Beau stared into Esme's beautiful and gentle face, remembering Earnest. And then he looked at Carlisle, taking in his soothing demeanor and the easy acceptance in his eyes, and he thought of Carine. Beau didn't know what happened after he transitioned and turned, but something else had drastically changed along the way. He wasn't in Kansas anymore, at least not the Kansas he remembered and loved. It was almost like he had jumped into a mirror image of Forks, and while it technically still _was_ home, everything had been turned upside down. He couldn't grasp the full magnitude of this yet (and he still wasn't entirely convinced that any of this was real yet, either—perhaps this _was_ a figment of his imagination, or perhaps he actually _was_ dead and he'd been sentenced to this personal hell: to live without Edythe, to have all the people he once loved in his life replaced).

_Maybe. Possibly._

But by some small shred of chance that this actually _was_ real, and that he was alive—as alive as a vampire could be, anyway—then nothing was the same anymore. _Nobody_ was the same anymore. If the Cullens that sat before him now were the Cullens of wherever he had wound up, then claiming to be related to a name so closely woven into the history of Forks somehow seemed dangerous.

"My name is Beauford Dwyer, but feel free to call me Beau." He smiled tightly. Dwyer was his mother's new married name. He doubted Phil would mind. "My parents named me after my grandfather—they might've overlooked the year I was born when deciding to call me that."

Both Carlisle and Esme laughed.

"I was traveling north when I ran into another vampire, a woman named Lauren." Beau felt a pang inside of his chest as the lies unfolded, but this felt like the only option he had. This was the _safest _option, at least until he could figure out what was really going on. "She told me she had heard about a coven who lived a different… way."

"I've never wanted to hurt a human before." Beau's fingers dug into his jeans. It was easier to talk now that he was speaking half-truths. "I haven't yet, either."

"You're not very old, are you?" Carlisle asked. Knowing what he was really referring to, Beau nodded.

"How long have you been a vampire?"

Esme shifted closer to him. One of her hands slid along the cushions towards him, almost as if she couldn't help her motherly nature to try and comfort him.

"A week," he heard one of them suck in a sharp breath, "maybe two."

"I've been in the forest up north near Clallam Bay." He explained. He closed his eyes for just a moment, reliving the fresh memories. He could still smell wet dog in his nose. "I was trying to get some new clothes when I ran into the wolves. I'm glad I did though, because I'm not sure what I would've done if I had run into a human."

Beau felt his throat constrict when he opened his eyes again and saw Esme suddenly beside him. Her hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder now, squeezing gently. He was a stranger to this woman and yet she somehow still cared, and it was just enough for Beau to feel the dam containing his emotions start to crack.

"I don't want to murder anyone." He finished quietly.

"You won't," Carlisle said firmly. "I can't recall this Lauren you speak of, but I've met a great deal of people, both vampire and human alike, through my years. It's a gift that you ran into her, Beau. I'll be sure to thank her for sending you our way if we ever cross paths again." However comforting Carlisle was trying to be, Beau physically recoiled at the idea of Lauren getting anywhere near them, or anyone else for that matter. Esme squeezed his shoulder again reassuringly, misinterpreting his discomfort for something else entirely. "She sent you to the right place," Carlisle continued. "Our family is different from the others of our kind. We feed on animals as our primary diet. You can think of us like—"

"Like vegetarians?" Beau chuckled breathlessly, grasping onto the timeless joke as means to ground himself. At least _this_ hadn't changed.

"Yes, like vegetarians," Carlisle and Esme both smiled at the comparison. "I think that's enough for now. There are a few things that we'll have to rearrange with you staying here, but it shouldn't be too much of an issue. We'll also need to let the others know to expect you, so they aren't surprised to see a new face at home."

"Why don't we get you cleaned up in the meantime?" Esme was already standing and offering him her hand. He took it and then grimaced, apologizing at the dirt and grime. "I'm sure I can find a decent shirt and a pair of pants for you. You look about as tall as Carlisle and Jasper, so I think they'll fit."

"Jasper?"

"Jasper is a part of our family." She explained patiently. "You'll meet him, Emmett and Rosalie tomorrow. They were just starting their flight back to Washington when we arrived a few hours ago." She guided him towards the staircase. Beau saw Carlisle disappear around the archway that led to the kitchen, a small black cellphone pressed tightly to his ear.

"There's also Edward, Alice and Bella. The three of them are in Italy right now, but when we last spoke with them they were working on arrangements to return to the States. It might be a few days before they return, but it'll give you some time to get comfortable here." Her words were heavy, a story to their situation that he clearly wasn't privy to—not yet, anyways. Beau didn't prod her further. It was enough for him to try to keep up with the information she was already giving him. "Edward and Alice live here along with Jasper, Emmett and Rosalie. I know it might seem like a full house, but they'll understand what you're going through more than anyone, Beau."

Although he _highly_ doubted that, he kept his thoughts to himself. They reached the top of the stairs and were heading down the hallway towards Carine's office—or Carlisle's office now, he supposed—when Beau came to a sudden halt.

"Wait, you're inviting me to actually _stay_ here?"

"Of course," she said simply. Her dark eyebrows furrowed together suddenly, worried. "But only if you _want _to, I mean. We can try to find other accommodations, but it might be difficult with how many humans live in town and nearby."

"No, no—" He shook his head quickly. "That's not what I meant at all. I don't mind staying here, I would like that more than anything, but I thought… well, you don't _know_ me." Beau's throat was doing that weird clenching again, and it wasn't because of his insatiable hunger. It was from pure, unfiltered emotion, amplified a hundred times over by his newborn body. "Carlisle doesn't know me, _none_ of you do. I can't exactly expect you guys to just take me in."

"Why wouldn't we?"

The way she said it made him realize she wasn't expecting an answer to her question. She didn't _want_ an answer, she just _wanted_ him here, plain and simple. Beau couldn't begin to fathom why.

"Come," Esme touched his shoulder again, and he could suddenly breathe again, albeit brokenly. "Let's get you taken care of."

* * *

∞ Leah ∞

"Leah—"

"Dirty bloodsuckers." She seethed.

"Leah!" Seth groaned. "Ow, ow, _ow_!"

"We could've taken down every single one of them." Leah growled. "If the treaty didn't exist then we could've gone after him. Why did he tell us to stop? We almost had him!" Her hands shook as she wound the bandage tight around his shoulder again.

"Leah," he whimpered quietly, "if you wrap it any tighter my arm is going to go numb."

"Just hold still Seth!" She snapped. "If we don't bind it right it's going to heal all wrong. You heard what Sam said."

Sam, the source of all her problems—well, that wasn't _entirely_ true anymore. There was a certain vampire that was also high up on her shit list right now.

"Leah…" Seth gulped, but did as she said. The right side of his body had taken the brunt of the attack. Three broken ribs and a fracture along his arm. The worst of it was his shoulder, though. Seth had never broken a bone before or had_ anything_ pop out of its socket until tonight. Jacob had reassured her that he would heal up just fine, but he might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

Her little brother looked like a mess and it was all she could think about. The vampire they were hunting had dropped from her mind the moment that Seth was injured. All of them had been so focused on the hunt that his pain and panic had blindsided them, almost like someone had dropped a bomb on all of them. For a solid minute Seth struggled to breathe, and the pack's immediate concern had shifted from _kill kill kill_ to _help help help_. All of them except Sam and Jacob, who had charged ahead and continued the hunt.

Leah now wished she had stayed with them. She would've liked nothing more than to sink her teeth into the bloodsucker and rip his head off. The violent thoughts brewed inside of her like an oncoming storm, lightning and thunder rippling across the sea. If anyone thought that she would cool off after getting back home on the reservation they were wrong. Dead wrong.

As soon as she was sure that Seth was safe and his wounds gauzed, wrapped, and his arm was in a proper brace, she was going to take care of things her own way.

_Screw Sam and his little treaty. Screw him for letting the vampire run away to the Cullens—and for that matter, screw_…

"You're going to make his arm heal wrong if you keep binding it that tightly."

Speaking of the devil.

She rose from the small stool she was perched on, almost knocking it over in the process. The leftover bandages in her hand were ripping as her nails bit into them.

"Well?" Leah demanded, ignoring his comment. "Did you change your mind?"

"No." He said sharply. Sam chose not to look at her, instead staring at Seth a little too intently. He was avoiding her, which made this all the worse.

Sam walked into the small bedroom, filling up the space like a giant. Once upon a time he had intimidated her (especially after he had turned and disappeared for several weeks, returning looking like a man more than the boyish teenager she was dating), but she had already grown to look past that. Now all she saw was Sam Uley: the man she loved who had left her for her cousin. Leah understood the bond and what it meant now that she was one of them, but it didn't stop the resentment. Five, six years gone, wasted for nothing while they got to live their happily ever after.

Being a wolf for a month and understanding their bond didn't change _any_ of that. In some ways, to Leah at least, it somehow made it worse. There was no possibility of reversing what Sam and Emily had; Leah had always been a fighter for the people that mattered to her, and any hope she had of Sam and her getting back together had been shattered the instant she'd turned into a wolf.

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't as simple as going back and hunting them down. He ran onto the Cullen's territory. We don't have a claim to follow him over the line."

They'd already had this argument plenty of times (in the woods as wolves, as well as once they had returned to the reservation), but it didn't stop her from rising to repeat it. She stalked near the edge of the doorframe Sam had just entered through, and for just a moment Leah seemed to fill its frame just as he had, demanding the same power and attention.

"He attacked Seth," Leah's lips trembled. "He hurt him, Sam—"

"That doesn't matter, Leah!" Although his voice was quiet, she still felt the bite of his tone. "_Seth attacked him first_. We all saw it through his eyes; he made a lunge for the vampire first, and I'll be damned if we crossover onto Cullen land and make the entire situation worse for ourselves. We broke the treaty first, they didn't."

Unlike the others in their pack, she refused to bow to his anger. His words were a match being carelessly thrown into a barrel of gasoline, and it was just starting to catch fire. Leah's emotions made her both wilder and fiercer, confident through the anger and hurt she felt. She embraced the calamity of the storm, she didn't flee from it.

"Seth was acting in self-defense." She said through her teeth. "The vampire was in a goddamn store. You saw the papers in Clallam Bay from a few days ago: two dead, and the humans are blaming _wolves_ for the attack."

Sam claimed the stool she'd been seated on just moments before, and although his back was to her, Leah could see the muscles growing tense along his shoulders and neck. Like all of them (except her of course), he was wearing nothing more than a pair of raggedy shorts. He was topless and shoeless, his rich, russet-colored skin stained with dirt and grime. While she tried to argue her stance, Sam took over her role as caretaker, carefully finishing the makeshift brace that she'd started. For how much of a ruthless, powerful alpha that he could be at times, Sam was always tender whenever he could afford it, and now was one of those times. Especially for Seth.

For a split-second Leah was breathless as she watched the two of them. Seth relaxed against the pillows she'd fluffed behind him earlier. He didn't wince even once as Sam carefully tied the knot along his good shoulder, allowing him to finally relax his arm and posture. She could remember countless times in the past, in the _Before _of all this mess, when they had all just been human kids living on the reservation, how Sam had tended to her brother's childish wounds with similar care. However much his love for her might've withered and died, the love he felt for Seth remained steadfast, unchanging even after _Sam_ had changed.

And just like that, Leah felt something inside of her _break_. Leah gasped for breath and shut her eyes, feeling a wave of nausea hit her suddenly. All the pain of his rejection, his anger, and all of her own emotions over the last few months had formed into a thick, toxic black tar, which after some time had eventually sifted to the bottom of her heart. And now it was rising again, its black fingers webbing up into the valves of her heart and choking her.

_God, why does it still hurt so badly?_

"I shouldn't have gone after the vampire without you guys. I know I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry." Seth's voice was far-away. They kept talking like she was nothing but a ghost in the room, their voices low.

"It's alright." Sam was saying. "You were reacting on instinct."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"No," Sam shook his head. "The rest of us have had months to adjust. You and Leah are still learning your bodies. This was inevitably going to happen, I'm just glad that the vampire didn't do anything worse than he did."

"_This time_," Leah found her voice again, however small it sounded, even to her own ears. "Eventually there will be a next time. If that vampire was with the Cullen's there was no reason he would've been up north. They have money, so what was he even doing in that store to begin with?" She opened her eyes again and was surprised see both Sam and Seth looking at her. Both looked worried, but it was Sam's eyes that stripped her down piece by piece, until she felt naked under his gaze. Even if he hadn't been her alpha Leah had no doubt he saw through the walls she was quickly trying to build around herself, and she loathed him all the more for it.

"He won't attack me again. At least, I don't feel like he would…" Seth looked down at his bandaged arm, refusing to meet her gaze again. He looked so small lying on the bed, their mother's wool blanket bundled up against his waist. He might've grown several inches since the change, but he was still her kid brother, and he was wounded _badly_, however much the others were trying to play this off as a trophy of battle.

"You guys weren't there in the store with me at the beginning when I found him. He looked… he looked almost… almost _scared_."

"Scared?" Sam repeated hesitantly.

"I don't really know how to describe it, but I don't think he was there looking for some easy target to kill." Seth frowned. "He didn't even go into the store until Old Jones had left and locked up—it's like he was trying to _avoid_ running into a human, actually." He sucked in a deep breath. He didn't dare look up at Leah, who had gone eerily quiet. If he had, he might not have found the courage to keep talking. Her nails were digging into the wooden doorframe, their tips starting to elongate and sharpen into wolf-like claws.

"Strange. And you said he was just grabbing clothes when you got there?"

Seth nodded.

"None of that matters!" Leah shouted angrily, startling both of them. "_None_ of that matters at all! The Cullens just got back, and coincidentally this vampire just happened to go running to them. Whoever he was, he broke the law and he posed a threat to us—he _hurt _one of us!"

Sam twisted back to face her, already rising to his feet while she glared at him. She couldn't restrain herself any longer, listening to the two of them have a casual chat about how the vampire _might_ not be all that bad; how he _might _not be that dangerous; how he _might_ be affiliated with the Cullens; how all of this _might've_ just been a miscommunication—a silly little slip of the tongue, a joke—and Seth had gotten hurt for no reason. That poisonous, black tar in the deepest reaches of her person had already pumped through her heart and was bleeding into her veins now, and the only way she could stop herself from suffocating completely was by redirecting it: redirecting it at Sam, at Seth—

_On the vampire that had almost killed her brother_.

Leah made it out the front door of their family home and had just set foot on the front porch when Sam caught up to her. She was trembling from head to toe, concentrating on the wild emotions running through her to let the wolf in her tear itself out and take control. She was just a few steps away from turning and escaping to the Cullens, where she planned on dragging that good-for-nothing bloodsucker straight of their home and finishing him off, when all her plans were killed in a matter of seconds.

"_Stop_." The command came from her alpha, not from Sam.

"Please," she whispered, hot tears building in her eyes and threatening to fall. She was glad her back was to him at least, that he couldn't see just how badly one word, one tone, could chain her. "Please, don't do this Sam…"

"We cannot jeopardize the treaty, not with the Cullens being back in Forks." He was several steps behind her, but she could feel the heat of his body reaching for her. What Leah would've given to feel it wrapped around her comfortingly, for her to feel and hear _her_ Sam again. Except that would never happen again, certainly not in this lifetime. She recoiled from him, wrapping her arms tight around herself. She would've rather felt the biting chill of the icy winds over whatever lackluster emotion he managed to find within himself to share with her.

"You _will _go back to your room for the rest of the night and sleep this off."

"Please—" She tried, but he interrupted her.

"You _will not_ go to the Cullens unless I order you to."

The lock snapped into place, tying her to the ground, stripping her of what willpower she had left. The logic of his orders and the concern in his voice and eyes never reached her. Leah was blind to it, too focused on Seth's pain and her own pain. She was too focused on the tears that were bubbling over out of sheer frustration and how uncomfortably hot and wet they felt against her cheeks.

"You _will not_ hunt or go after that vampire we saw earlier. Do you understand?"

All she could do was nod.

* * *

∞ Beau ∞

He hid in the bathroom for well over an hour. By the time he stepped out of the shower the entire room was flooded with steam, fogging up the mirrors and everything else in sight. He dried himself slowly, taking as much time as he wanted to even at the cost of appearing rude to his hosts. Neither Carlisle nor Esme seemed to mind his prolonged absence however, and throughout his little getaway Beau could hear Esme make several trips up and down the hall, probably trying to make due with what they had to make a guest room up for him. _These _Cullens, just like _his _Cullens, clearly didn't have guests over very often.

The solitude gave him time to think and plan, something he desperately needed to do. The conclusions he had come to were still strange to him, alien even, but he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that no other explanation made sense. Beau knew there was the very real possibility that this might just be another unexpected supernatural twist to his life. Edythe hadn't told him about the werewolves, and it was possible there were other supernatural creatures or phenomenon he wasn't aware of yet. Despite this, he just couldn't shake the sensation that for however many _other_ truths might be out there, they simply didn't apply to his situation. Esme Cullen and Carlisle Cullen were linked to his vampire family somehow. _Or,_ Beau treaded carefully, feeling that wad of helplessness inside him threatening to expand again like it had earlier, _my world and this world are intertwined: related but separate, parallel._

Both ideas sounded crazy, which only left him with one other choice: to do nothing. He would simply have to wait and see if there was some truth to his fears, or if there was a different explanation entirely for what was going on. He knew the next few days would really hammer the nail in the coffin, especially when the others arrived. For now, the only option he really had was to allow this twilight nightmare to play out, and hopefully he would wake up to somehow find it had all been but a dream. So long as whatever this was ended with him having Edythe in his life again, Beau didn't care where it took him.

He raked his fingers through his wet hair several times to straighten the messy locks out. His skin was still tingling pleasantly from the warmth of the shower even after he started to dress. No matter how roughly he had scrubbed his skin, it never reddened or burned from his strength, and now that it was dry it had returned to a flawless, perfect shade of translucent white. He had just finished pulling on a pair of slacks and was beginning to button up the front of the white shirt Esme had given him (courtesy of "Jasper"), when Beau caught sight of something in his peripherals.

The steam had begun to dissipate from the mirrors, revealing a stranger staring right at him. _No_, he realized, eyes going wide. _Not a stranger. Me_. For all the differences he saw however, it might as well have been another person entirely in the reflection. A tall, handsome figure watched him with weary eyes. Unlike his beloved vampires, the eyes that looked back at him now were a rich red-brown color; it would take some time, Beau knew, for their color to eventually lighten to a soft gold color. It was such a stark difference from the normal brown he was used to seeing though that Beau leaned closer to the mirror to get a better look.

At first, he didn't see anything that was still _him_ before turning. He frowned, peering closer at himself, admittedly a little disappointed—and not because he wasn't handsome, but because part of him was fearful that Edythe might not even recognize him when she saw him again. Sure, his height seemed roughly the same, but his body had otherwise completely changed. He'd always been gangly, more of a nerd than an athletic person, prone to endless nights drowning in classic literature than pushing himself physically to get a shot at playing on the school football team. He preferred locking himself away in a world of make-believe characters, where more often than not he found himself enjoying their company more than that of real-life people. Now, his body looked the opposite, like he had spent years building and cultivating his form: raw muscle had filled out his body, sculpting his frame into a lithe build. His legs, arms and chest visibly reflected the power he felt when he was hunting. It was one thing to_ assume _his body had changed and another entirely to _see_ the evidence right in front of him.

Beau let loose a breath of relief as he ran his fingers through his hair again, pleased to see it was still the same color and length as it had been before. The dark waves of brown hair hung damply around his face and ears before smoothing back to rest against the nape of his neck. It was in his face that he finally saw some of the familiarity return. Bits and pieces jumped out at him: the curved slope of his brows, the sharpness of his eyes—and there was a slight hollowness resting just underneath his cheekbones, though it looked more pronounced than he remembered it being before. It gave him a more angular appearance, and if he was being honest with himself, it made him look more like a vampire.

Beau reached for the mirror, pressing his fingertip against his reflection's. Second by second the weary glare of his eyes shifted, first replaced by shock, then awe at what he saw. _This is real. _Beau thought. His fingers swept over his reflection's cheekbones, then his eyes. Elation flooded him as he drank in his appearance, the very same rush he felt whenever he was drinking freshly spilled blood. _This is me_.

He was unquestionably, unequivocally handsome.

Beau didn't consider himself a particularly vain person, especially when he had grown accustomed to accepting his dismal, human appearance in comparison to Edythe's, but he allowed himself this moment. He let himself revel in what he had survived and become. What he had changed into. He was perfect now, a perfect match to Edythe's beauty, at least on the surface. The next time he stood by her side, he knew with absolute certainty that they would finally _look_ like they belonged together. His body had been molded and reformed, like someone had peeled away dirt to reveal a diamond in the rough, just as dazzling to behold as it was breathtaking. There was no questioning the impact he would have on humans: they would find him irresistible in same way that he had once felt seeing the Cullens for the first time at Forks High School.

A choked laugh made its way past his lips as he pulled away. He finished buttoning up the front of his shirt, then made his way for the door, but not before catching sight of the small smile toying at the corners of his lips. His reflection, at least, looked happy for once. Beau couldn't be sure how long this feeling might last, but for the first time since he'd awoken, he finally felt like things were beginning to look up.

The next day passed by slowly. Beau did his best to ward off his intrusive thoughts, trying to stay true to his plan of no-action, but found it almost entirely impossible to do so. Even though he kept his hands busy and helped Esme and Carlisle with the house (uncovering the remainder of the furniture, cleaning everything in the house until it was shiny and spotless), his mind continued to wander, often pulling him into lengthy silences. He was only pulled from his brooding thoughts whenever they engaged him directly, often asking polite, indirect questions to learn more about him. Their questions were innocent enough, but each one set him on edge, realizing he hadn't entirely thought out just how complicated his stay was going to be.

_Where are you from?_

"Northern California," Beau had answered automatically, wistfully recalling his summer vacations there with his father. Although he hadn't really enjoyed the camping aspect of those trips, he'd enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his skin. Summer vacations with Charlie were usually blissful, quiet trips, where Charlie spent the bulk of it fishing away, allowing him to get through a few good books in peace.

_Do you have any relatives here?_

"No."

_How did you manage to find yourself all the way up here?_

"I was scouting a few colleges up north to see where I might want to go this fall. I was on my way to Port Angeles when… well, when I think I was attacked." He'd kept his voice low and his eyes focused on anything and everything except Carlisle's curious face. "I pulled off onto the side of the road to stretch my legs. I don't really remember much after that, just waking up in the woods."

_Lie, lie, lie_ his inner voice kept whispering, so Beau did. And the lies kept building, growing with each and every question they asked. He didn't dare take too long to answer each off their questions, not wanting to appear insincere. And from what he could tell, he was successful in his misgivings, and Esme and Carlisle didn't appear to question his any of his answers. They didn't have any reason to. Somehow, this made him feel terribly guilty.

* * *

By the time morning came the entire place was spotless, and Esme had shown him to his new room. It was the last room at the end of the hall on the second floor, next to where Archie's bedroom used to be. Previously, Archie had used it as an extra space to store clothes and other personal belongings, and the woman who used it now—Alice, Esme had said her name was—had clearly used it with similar purpose. It was small but comfortable, and Carlisle helped move a few bookshelves into the room to make it less barren. On the far end was a large, bay window that overlooked the garden along the back of the house. A sleek-looking leather couch rested just in front of it, and to the right of it was a small wooden desk and chair. There was no bed. The room was a far cry from his old one at Charlie's, but it was his—and certainly much, much better alternative than living in the woods like an animal.

Shortly after three in the afternoon, the moment finally came. Other members of the Cullen family finally began to arrive. Emmett and Rosalie showed up first in a flashy red Lamborghini. Just like with Carlisle and Esme, Beau felt his heart squeeze in pain at the sight of them. Not because of anything they said or did, but by simply _being_. Rosalie regarded him carefully at first, sizing him up like a lioness would her prey. The way her eyes roamed over him had him set on edge immediately, and he could feel the hair along his arms begin to rise. She was judging him without having to say a single word, her golden eyes demanding answers from him without her ever saying a single word—and Beau's body answered each of them. She was a barbie-doll come to life, though that was a mockery in comparison to just how beautiful she was. He couldn't have denied her looks even if he wanted to. Even by vampire standards, Beau knew she was something exceptional—and Rosalie both knew this and used it to her advantage. He must've been staring at her for far too long without saying anything, because suddenly she smiled at him, revealing perfect, pearly-white teeth. She had been baiting for this kind of reaction, Beau realized in horror, and he'd walked right into the trap.

He watched as she flitted inside the house without a second look back at him, calling for Emmett to start unloading the car.

Emmett was something else entirely. At first, Beau could only watch in anticipation as the burly male emerged from the car. It almost seemed impossible that he fit to begin with. He was pure, raw muscle, his arms and legs seemingly almost twice the size of his own. The dark-haired male approached him with a friendly grin on his face, and while Beau _knew_ he was being friendly, instinct had his muscles tensing in preparation of facing a potential threat. He didn't even notice his hands had curled into fists until Emmett was upon him. He was pulled into a one-armed bear hug, the strength of his grip almost squeezing the life out of him before Emmett abruptly released him, a wild grin on his face.

"It'll be fun to have a little fledgling around the house." His muscles rippled powerfully as he pulled away. Beau couldn't be sure whether to be amused or intimidated, though instinct told him the latter was _far_ more appropriate for the situation.

"Be nice," Esme warned, though she was smiling as she watched them. Beau hadn't even noticed her joining them on the porch.

"I will, cross my heart." Emmett grinned at her, then back at Beau again. "It's been awhile since we've had fresh meat. Jasper's only lost control a few times lately—"

"Which he feels very deeply over." Carlisle called from inside. He appeared moments later, the same black cell phone from last night in hand. Beau couldn't help but wonder whether he was anticipating a call or had just gotten off one with someone. "With everything that happened shortly before we left, I think it'd be best to refrain from bringing that up for a while, Emmett."

"I know, I know." Emmett rolled his eyes. "I wasn't meaning anything by it. I'm just saying, this _could_ be fun." He winked at Beau playfully, before brushing past him and into the house. He scaled the staircase to the second floor in less than a second, disappearing into whatever room Rosalie had retreated to.

Beau calmed himself down by pretending the pair had nothing in common with Royal and Eleanor whatsoever. It was perhaps one of the biggest lies he had told himself yet, but he clung to it. Desperately. He denied both their personality and physical similarities. _Anyone could be friendly_, he argued. _Anyone_ could be beautiful, and it wasn't something that was inherently restricted to two other vampires he happened to know. Beau was still arguing with himself—and pacing the front porch, unaware that both Carlisle and Esme were watching him—when a black car drove up.

It would be Jasper Hale that broke the illusion he'd built for himself.

Jasper Hale emerged from the car, another tall, handsome man, with striking blond hair and eyes. Although his pale skin suited him, Beau imagined when he was human that his skin had been warmly tanned, especially when he opened his mouth to speak. A hint of a southern accent colored his voice pleasantly, drawing over him like a warm blanket. Beau immediately felt himself drawn into Jasper's aura like a moth to flame, his body lulling into a state of comfort by the quiet tenor of his voice. He hadn't even realized just how tense and brittle he'd felt until now that the weight was lifting from him. He relaxed, arms sagging at his sides, his fists unfurling immediately.

"Hello," Jasper greeted him, a faint smile on his face. "My name is Jasper Hale. Esme and Carlisle were kind enough to catch me up on the situation."

"I'm Beau—Beau Dwyer," he said. "It's good to meet you."

As Jasper approached them on the porch, Beau didn't feel the urge to put any distance between them like he had with Emmett and Rosalie. He couldn't fathom _why_ he didn't, nor why this was so strange until after Jasper left him to join the others in the house awhile later. He hardly noticed Esme and Carlisle disappear inside with him, quietly speaking amongst each other. He caught pieces of their conversation, namely that Edward and Alice wouldn't be home until early the next morning, but their words lost all interest from him the moment Jasper's enchantment over him broke.

He forgot about what they were talking about completely when the wind was suddenly stolen from him. All the warmth and comfort he felt disappeared with a snap of the fingers, and just like that, he was plunged back into a river of ice. The sudden absence left him struggling for several seconds, scrambling to pull himself back to the surface of the waves. It had been less than a day since he'd come to the Cullen residence, and all his frustrations and fears returned to him instantaneously, leaving him breathless and staggering to remain upright. Worse than all of it was the realization that he didn't need to wait any longer to know.

Jasper Hale was simply Jessamine, reskinned. His manipulation of emotions wasn't simply something he _shared_ with her; he was her, and she was him. Carlisle, Carine. Esme, Earnest. Emmett, Eleanor. Rosalie, Royal. And if Alice was Archie, then that would mean… It meant—

Beau sat down on the porch's steps. He smoothed his hands repeatedly against the front of his pants. No matter what he did they wouldn't stop shaking. He wished that Jasper would somehow feel the crisis he was going through and would join him again on the porch. Even if the salve he applied was only temporary (even if it was fake), he wanted nothing more than to drown in its comforting warmth. And if he couldn't have that—_fuck_—then at least give him the option to sleep again. _Just this once_, Beau begged. He wanted to shut his eyes and lose himself to oblivion, because he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to face him otherwise once he arrived.

For if this was all true, then Edward Cullen was Edythe's replacement.

And if Edward was her replacement, then that meant Edythe was simply not here. _She was gone. She didn't exist_.

Beau was spiraling, sinking deeper and deeper into his own personal pit of hell within himself, when suddenly he heard them. It was faint at first, but once they drew close to the outskirts of the yard where the towering pine trees clustered together protectively, Beau heard them clear as day. His head snapped up, bright red-brown eyes burning with painful emotion as he sought to make out the outlines of their enormous bodies. The rest of the Cullen's silently joined him on the porch. Even Emmett, whose boisterous laughter had been ringing throughout the house just seconds prior, had gone completely silent.

The wolves had come.

* * *

[End Chapter]

Special thank you to LeoH – for some unfathomable reason I thought that Alice's counterpart was called Alec, not Archie. I've updated the previous two chapters to reflect this.


	4. The Imprint

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, not making any money off this, yadda yadda.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and reviewing guys!

**Rating:** Mature, 18+. Death, gore, and heavy romantic elements are not glazed over.

* * *

**WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS**

∞ Chapter 4: The Imprint ∞

At first it seemed like it was going to be a total standstill: several minutes passed in deadly silence, either party watching the other with bated breath, waiting for someone—anyone—to make the first move. Beau could make out two of them edging closer to the open yard, their enormous heads almost comically poking out from the cluster of trees. One of them he recognized immediately: the dark, black fur, and rich brown eyes. It was one of the two that had kept hunting him the other night, unbothered by the packmate that he had left wounded in the woods. Beau clearly remembered the sound of his bones snapping, not once but several times when his arm had collided with the wolf, throwing him off to the side like a ragdoll. He visibly cringed at the memory.

The second wolf was russet-colored, a warm mix of brown and red-tinged fur. He was just a pace behind the darker one, though the emotion he saw in this one's eyes left Beau breathless. Pure, unfiltered loathing glowed out towards him. Towards him specifically, not the others—

_Are they here because of me?_ Beau felt his stomach sinking as the realization set in. It was obvious they were here for him. He had hurt their packmate, after all… but surely, _surely,_ they couldn't be so foolish to think that they could come to the Cullen residence by force and try to take him away? Carlisle and Esme had been surprised when he'd brought them up during their long talks last night, remarking they hadn't seen the pack in full transition for several decades now, but they hadn't thought the pack would come for him—

_"We had an incident last year with a smaller coven—that probably triggered the change in the tribe members." Carlisle had explained calmly. He looked unconcerned by this, making Beau wonder just how many times he'd witnessed the strain come to life in the past. "So long as the treaty isn't broken, we don't have anything to fear from them."_

"_One of them attacked me up by Clallam Bay." Beau protested. He could still hear them howling as they chased after him, fangs flashing under the moonlight, their enormous bodies crashing through the forest. "He was pretty young, though, couldn't have been older than maybe fourteen or fifteen."_

"_Exactly," Carlisle nodded at him. The older vampire spared him a comforting smile when he saw the surprised look cross his face. "I would chalk it up as a mistake on their end. So long as you didn't attack them first," another pointed look, to which Beau nodded: he definitely hadn't attacked first, his memory was clear as day regarding this, "then there's nothing to fear. If the pack thought we had broken the treaty, you can believe me when I say they would've kept after you even when you crossed the river into our home."_

Beau's hands felt clammy and cold as he stood there. He had practically turned into a statue with every passing second, his legs, chest, and finally his arms going completely motionless. The fact he wasn't breathing added further to his statuesque appearance. Carlisle, ever the diplomat, was the first to break the silence, stepping forward so that he was right at his side. From his peripherals Beau saw Emmett and Jasper join him, flanking his sides. Beau exhaled finally, relieved to see them at his side, however much he didn't feel he deserved their camaraderie. _These_ Cullens didn't know him. They had no loyalty, no Edythe to force their hands and extend their protection to him as well. He was an absolute stranger, and yet they were still the same selfless people he had known in his previous life.

Beau had to focus hard to avoid letting his emotions grab him too hard. They loomed just underneath the surface, amplified a thousand times over by his newborn body, and it was only through sheer force of will that he managed to control himself.

He buried Edythe at the bottom of his heart with a promise he'd visit her again soon.

"Hello," Carlisle called in a friendly tone. "It's been a long time since my family and I have had the honor of meeting the descendants of the Quileute tribe." Beau admired how relaxed he appeared, despite the very real danger the wolves posed.

"It's come to my attention that there was an altercation with one of our own and your packmates just last night. I think that there might've been a misunderstanding." His eyes swept over the outskirts of the yard, seeking out their hidden observers.

"I hope," Carlisle added earnestly, "that the wolf who Beaufort here encountered is alright. If my memory serves me correctly, your people normally heal quite quickly after encounters with our kind."

There was a faint scuffling near the edge of the woods. Beau's eyes trained on a pair of wolves as they emerged fully from the trees. Their bodies were larger than what he had made out during the hunt, bigger than bears for sure, though he wagered they were closer to the size of fully-grown horses. He'd never seen anything like them—and he never wanted to see them again, either. Every step they took rippled with power. The black one moved cautiously, while the reddish-colored one seemed to throw caution to the wind altogether. That one was looking at him even after they finally stopped again. Beau watched, confused, as some of the anger abated from his eyes, replaced instead by a peculiar curiosity. Strangely enough, there was something oddly familiar about his eyes.

"I didn't mean him any harm." Beau finally found his voice. He had realized seconds after Carlisle had fallen quiet that he was intending for him to speak up. He was the one that needed to initiate the peace—he was the reason they were here, after all. Or at least a good part of why.

"It was a mistake that I went that far north—I had no intention of the situation escalating like it did." He felt a wave of warmth wash over him. Jasper's peculiar gift was extending over all of them, even the wolves; the faint noises from deep within the trees suddenly stilled.

"I was only trying to leave the shop, and your packmate wouldn't get out of the way. I promise I meant no harm." Beau said. It was easier to speak now. He clutched onto Jasper's presence, suddenly thankful that the wolves hadn't decided to show their faces until now. He wasn't sure if he could've managed this conversation without him nearby.

The wolves silence was uncanny. They couldn't speak, not in their current forms, and the motionless gaze of their eyes was eerie.

Beau forced himself to keep going. "Back in the forest, when we crossed paths again, it was only an act of self-defense—"

A snarl ripped into the air. Even though Beau _felt_ calm—courtesy of Jasper—he felt his muscles grow tense at the vicious, angry sound. His _real_ emotions were clashing against the facade draped over him, instinct begging for him to leave, to flee before it was too late. Beau stood there, mouth hanging open, his eyes wide as he watched the scene unfold before him.

The red wolf immediately turned and rushed back into the cluster of trees where the others lingered. He sensed something was wrong, deathly wrong, as the wolves began to shift and move, their bodies merely dark outlines hidden behind the cluster of trees. In a strange way, Beau thought, it sounded like they were fighting amongst themselves. He could hear their muzzles gnashing. A cacophony of growls, snarls and whimpers flooded the air. Clusters of underbrush and twigs were snapping and cracking as the pack struggled amongst themselves. The only one who seemed in-control was the black wolf, whom Beau suddenly realized was their leader—their alpha. His tail was raised, ears perked to attention with all the commotion going on behind him, and yet his attention never wavered from the vampires before him. Even though the Cullens (and himself) had no intention of attacking them, the lack of trust was still evident.

They were enemies, after all, no matter if some treaty was in place. Werewolves and vampires had never gotten along, not even in human lore.

"What is going on?" Rosalie hissed quietly behind them. Her lips were twisted into a scowl as she glared at the alpha, who readily returned the look, his lips twisting up to reveal a row of sharp canines.

"Patience, Rosalie." Esme said softly. "We won't know the reason behind their visit until we can speak with them."

"We've already tried that." She argued under her breath. "This isn't going anywhere. If they came for _him,_ I don't see why we aren't letting him deal with them."

Beau felt the heat of her gaze on his back and shivered. So much for getting a fresh start at their relationship. Royal's distaste for him clearly hadn't changed, even in this world.

"He already apologized to them. I think we can safely assume that the wolves understand the treaty hasn't truly been broken, at least not by us." Although Esme's words were reassuring, Beau couldn't help but disagree with her. Maybe Rosalie was right. Maybe he should be the one to deal with them head-on. He doubted they would be here if he hadn't crossed paths with the wolf boy from last night.

"Beau!" Esme suddenly called for him, her eyes widening when he suddenly took her advice. Rosalie watched on in stunned silence, for once not having anything to say. He was grateful for that.

Beau made his way off the porch slowly, hyper-aware of the black wolf and the glowering look on his face. The hair on the back of his neck started to rise when he heard him growl in warning, forcing him to stop. He judged how far apart they were now: maybe ten, fifteen yards. It would take only a matter of seconds for either of them to reach the other if they made a move for it. This close to each other, Beau could hear the furious beating of his heart.

"If he's here," Beau's voice was shockingly strong. His tone was firm as he continued. "I would like to apologize to him directly."

His words seemed to trigger something amongst the group. He heard what sounded like claws dragging against the ground, and then a low, painful howl. Whichever wolf it was coming from wouldn't be silenced however, for seconds later another howl pierced the air. Beau wasn't sure how he knew it came from the same wolf, but it did. A growl this time, louder, more defiant and angry, sounded off. The black wolf before him suddenly snapped his head to the side, brown eyes straining to see what was going on amongst his packmates—and then another wolf burst through the trees into the clearing of the house. It wasn't the red-colored one from before, but another wolf, this one noticeably smaller. For a wild second Beau thought it was the one from last night, the boy he'd seen transform just outside of the Compass Rose store, but the longer he looked the quicker he realized it couldn't be.

This wolf was somehow feminine compared to the others. The shape of its head and the rest of its body was slenderer, with larger eyes and more delicate-looking legs. There was something remarkably soft about her; even her fur, Beau saw, seemed cleaner and silkier, less rough and wild compared to the other two he'd seen. She had lighter gray-colored fur, reminding him of the La Push beach. The striking color was mixed with both darker and lighter streaks of fur, the colors blending into a pretty mottle. Through the murky haze of his human memories he remembered the trip with his human friends all that time ago. The same gray-colored waters had lapped at the shoreline, stretching wide over the pretty rocks and pebbles that lined the beach.

Back then, Edythe Cullen had been an enigma to him, a puzzle for him to unravel. He'd convinced innocent Julie Black to spill the truth on her tribe's reservations towards the Cullen family, something he still felt mildly ashamed of to this day.

Beau watched the gray wolf closely, his legs spreading just slightly as he fought the urge to drop into a crouch. Jasper or not, the threat she posed was real to him—even more real than the black wolf. She was leaning back on her haunches, fur bristling and tufted around her neck and rear. Her canines were exposed, glistening with saliva—_salivating over the chance to fight with him_. A thrill of adrenaline burst into his veins. He stared into her eyes. Brown, like chocolate, deep and rich and positively stricken with bloodlust. Beau heard someone behind him draw in a sharp breath, and his sensitive ears picked up on the sound of someone joining him in the yard, but he didn't dare take his eyes off of the creature in front of him.

_This was it, _Beau thought with grim certainty. _They're going to attack us. What have I done?_ He grinded his teeth together, the tips of his own fangs cutting painfully into his lower lip. He suddenly wished he'd never come to the Cullen residence. Even if he hadn't meant to, he'd inadvertently pulled them all into danger.

And then the most peculiar thing happened.

As the pair of them stared at each other—vampire squaring off against werewolf—the she-wolf's hackles flattened abruptly. A tremble rolled through her entire body, starting from her hind legs before traveling up to her muzzle; and once it reached her muzzle, she snapped it shut unexpectedly, hiding the wicked gleam of her canines. Beau was transfixed at the sudden transformation of emotion: one moment she had been rearing to lunge at him (why she held back he didn't know), the next her body deflated like a popped balloon.

Then, her eyes changed.

The bloodlust that had set her eyes on fire was smothered in an instant, until all that was left was a smoldering pair of embers. Her eyes never left him, but the flood of hostility and the danger he felt was likewise snuffed out. The wolf stood there motionlessly, one weak whimper following the next in an endless string of raw emotion. He couldn't even begin to fathom what was going on, or what had triggered the sudden change. Beau stared at her glumly, trying to place what he was seeing with little results; he didn't _think_ it sounded like fear—more like confusion than fear, or some strange combination of all the above. He could feel the heat of her gaze as it burned through him, and try as Beau might to look away, he couldn't have even if he wanted to. Piece by piece of him was set on fire, like she was burning him down straight to his soul. It was suffocating in its intensity, like she had lured him into some inescapable trap. There was no way out.

"Leah!" An unfamiliar voice roared, pulling everyone's attention at once.

Someone strode from the thicket of the trees, naked save for a pair of jean shorts clinging to his waist. He had dark, cropped hair, and the tell-tale darker skin coloring of the Quileute tribe. He looked both outraged and confused, fists shaking at his side as he jogged further into the clearing, not stopping until he had come just between the she-wolf and himself. The black wolf seemed to come to his senses at his packmate's appearance, jolting to attention and moving closer to the she-wolf (or 'Leah', as he assumed her name was); he used his body to barricade her from them, slowly pushing her rigid body back into the forest. Those same strange, strangled noises were leaving her, and Beau caught sight of her straining to look back at them—at him—with wide, scared eyes.

_What just happened?_ Beau wondered, his breath caught in his throat. If his heart had been alive and well, it would've been pounding furiously inside his chest._ What the hell is going on?_

"Sorry," the stranger spat at the ground, still visibly shaking. His tone wasn't apologetic in the slightest. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

It wasn't his words so much as the way he was looking at 'Leah' when he said it that made Beau realize he must've been talking about something else altogether. He looked visibly shaken still, like something had ripped his roots straight from the ground, sending him into shock. Beau took in a sharp breath, his brows drew together in confusion as he watched the strange display, until finally both the black wolf and the gray one disappeared into the cluster of trees.

"We didn't come here for your apology, or anything like that." The stranger's voice was still rough and husky. Still raw with shock, or disbelief, Beau couldn't be sure. His head was swimming, trying to piece together what, exactly, had just stopped the wolves from attacking at the last moment. What had stopped _her_ from attacking.

"That's alright," Carlisle's gently interceded. "We understand that tensions are a little bit high with everything going on." He was the one that had joined him in the yard of course. The only one that had hoped for a civilized encounter. Was there still hope for that?

"We haven't had the pleasure of meeting properly before." He continued. "My name is Carlisle Cullen, and this is Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper, and of course as you know, Beau."

"My name's Jacob Black," came the sharp reply, like it was a fallacy to even be bothered with pleasantries. He didn't offer an introduction for any of the other wolves that were here still, hidden in the clearing. Beau could hear them though: snarling and snapping and whining still, and there was a distinct pitch of a whine that he _knew_ was from the she-wolf. He knew it without question. Beau was distracted from the noises when he realized what name Jacob had just given: Jacob _Black_. Black, as in Julie Black? He stared at him, caught off-guard.

"Like I said, I didn't come here for a meet-and-greet." Jacob continued after a moment, taking in a deep, ragged breath. A look of disgust crossed over his face, like he smelled something particularly abhorrent. "We came here to see if your coven was coming back for good, or if this was going to just be a one-time get together."

A grimace visibly broke over Jacob's face. His fists were still shaking at his sides, awkwardly clunking against his ripped jean shorts. Beau watched him warily.

"We weren't expecting you bloodsuckers to return, not after you abandoned Bella."

The tension was so thick it could've been cut with a knife. Jacob didn't pull any punches, and his words hit home—at least for a few of them. Beau saw Esme turn at his words, a look of hurt and shame crossing over her face. The only one who appeared completely indifferent was Rosalie, who was watching the tree line carefully, her lips twisted into a look of disgust that rivaled Jacob's own.

"I see." Carlisle still looked calm outwardly. "Things have changed, as you can clearly see."

"What has changed, exactly?" Jacob demanded.

"The circumstances for why we left." He explained, not unkindly. "Edward and Bella will be returning from Italy shortly—and as far as I'm aware, we've no intention of leaving again for some time."

Jacob sucked in another deep breath, like it was a struggle to breathe like a normal human being. His angry eyes flitted from face to face, before finally settling on Beau. Almost immediately he felt overwhelmed by the anger he saw. The anger was deeper than what should've been felt towards a stranger, and it was worse because the anger wasn't the only thing he saw. Raw confusion—almost bewilderment—hugged near the surface, the same thing he'd seen in the other wolf's eyes. In Leah's eyes. Beau almost felt like he was being judged in some way. It was unnerving.

"I guess that settles it, then." Jacob exhaled. "Just so you all know, the treaty is still intact, and the original rules that were set in place remain." There was a thinly veiled attempt at being threatening.

"We understand," Carlisle said, "and as we said before, we've no intention of breaking the treaty."

"You'd better make sure that _he_ knows that—" Jacob jerked a thumb towards Beau, taking a step forward. His dark brows were twisting together as he stared at him, his expression still torn between disgust and anger. "We won't take lightly if another one of you bloodsuckers start breaking into stores or damaging _human_ property. Protecting humankind goes beyond just their flesh and blood."

"I understand." Had his tone sharpened? It sounded like it had. "As will Beau—he's new to the family in a lot of ways, and he isn't as familiar with the guidelines of the treaty as we are." Beau admired the grace at which Carlisle handled Jacob's hostile attitude. He didn't flinch even once at the lovely nicknames Jacob had thrown their way.

"We will go through every precaution to keep everyone safe, both on the reservation and outside of it." Carlisle added gently, though it hardly looked as though it mattered to the werewolf. Any one of them could've promised Jacob and the rest of his pack and the moon and the stars, but it was clear he didn't have an ounce of faith in their words. Jacob started to backtrack, his head turned halfway between them and the woods, listening to the sound of the other wolves. They had withdrawn further into the forest, the sounds of their scuffling and 'conversation' (at least Beau assumed that's what it was) growing more distant. He thought for just a moment that they had actually left Jacob alone with them, when the black wolf reappeared, lingering protectively just along the outskirts of the yard. Watching. Waiting.

Jacob shared a look with him, and if Beau's vision wasn't failing him, it nearly looked as if the wolf nodded.

He turned back to face them, once more looking directly towards him. He opened his mouth once, twice, fighting with himself to say something further—what that might be, Beau couldn't fathom, unless he meant to threaten him some more—before he finally snapped his mouth shut.

"Was that all you needed?" Esme asked politely. He felt her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Yeah, I guess." Jacob said roughly. He threw one last look at the lot of them before walking back towards the woods, keeping his front facing them the entire way. Beau would've found this amusing if the circumstances had been different. They had just narrowly avoided a fight, one that likely would've ended badly.

* * *

∞ Leah ∞

_'Leah—'_

'_Wait for us! Where are you going!?'_ Paul demanded.

_'Is this real?'_

'_What happened—'_ Embry sounded confused, lost. _'How can this be happening?'_

'_Lee-lee?'_

Their voices shouted to one another. Speaking calmly had been removed as an option the moment Leah had laid eyes on Beau. It had taken a few jarring seconds—to which she had fought so hard against the chains that Sam had placed on her, wanting nothing more than to rip and break each link so that she have her chance at the vampire. And if she got that chance, then it was worth the risk to Leah. Nobody hurt Seth and got away with it. Aside from her mother, he was the only reason she had to live anymore.

Leah had wanted to see Beau's dead body on the ground more than anything else she had wanted before. Every inch of her body had been trembling uncontrollably from head to toe as she faced him off, and for a brief, wild moment, Leah had felt something inside of her expanding and lifting. Exhilaration had ripped through her, pure in its potency, and she had seen freedom—freedom from Sam, freedom from the pack. The chains breaking, link by link, until she felt her legs begin to solidify with strength.

But she didn't want to hurt him, anymore. She couldn't.

This freedom hadn't come from her own will, it had stemmed _from_ Beau, this strange, unfamiliar vampire, not _away_ from him. The longer she had stood there the further the imprint solidified, and Leah hadn't realized what was happening until it was too late.

_Snip, snip, snip_, and the righteous anger and bloodlust she felt floated away like they'd never been there to begin with. All she saw was him: his face, his body—_him_ in his entirety, his perfection and wonder. The dark brown drape of his wavy hair and how it curled inward along his neck. Even the color of his eyes, a rich, deep red-brown shade, glinted under the fractured sunlight like glittering rubies. The emotion behind them was real, just as _human_ as anyone else's, if not even more-so. She had seen a similar pain in his own eyes that she saw in hers each and every morning—

Lost. Afraid. Hurt. Lonely. They were two sides to the same coin. The moon and the sun drifting across the same blue sky.

Leah's body _ached_ for him.

The hivemind had been stirred into a frenzy unlike any of them had seen before, not even Sam or Paul, who were the 'oldest' of the pack, could seem to calm anyone down. All of them congregated into a cluster as they ran through the woods, following the smaller gray wolf like she had a bullseye pinned to her back. She was faster than them though, her narrow, sleek body built for speed as she put more and more distance between herself and the others.

It didn't seem to matter though. Leah could still hear them like they were standing right next to her. Jacob and Sam were shouting the loudest, trying to get her to slow down, to _calm_ down so that they could work out what had happened—

_'I don't need any of you to tell me what to do!'_ She shouted at them. Leah's heart was hammering inside her chest frantically. _'Get away from me—I'll deal with this on my own—_'

Her words were lost in the waves of images and thoughts, but all of them boiled down to one simple thing:

_She imprinted on a vampire!_

And she was the only one who didn't feel an ounce of disgust over the matter. She couldn't. Instinct wouldn't allow her to. The clouds had cleared away for her for the first time since Sam had left her, revealing a breathtaking view of the night sky, an endless expanse for her to escape and revel in. The stars and the moon that she had thought were stolen from her forever had returned, brighter and more beautiful than she could ever recall them being.

_'He's mine,_' Leah whimpered, unable to contain her emotion any longer. The pack's shame and outrage as their thoughts were carelessly thrown back and forth kicked her into the next gear. She ran faster and harder than she ever had before, drawing them further away from the Cullen's residence. Further away from Beau, so he was safe.

The moment she drew near the reservation her body skidded along the dirt and grass, shifting in an instant from wolf to human. She was still shaking as she quickly unwound the knot of clothing she'd tied to her leg. Leah jerked on the pair of shorts and tank-top clumsily, then walked barefoot onto a narrow pathway that would lead up to the Black's residence, and beyond another road that would take her deeper into the residential area of the reservation. She had a minute or two at most before the others caught up.

A minute or two to collect her thoughts and get away from _all_ of them.

Leah jogged to her house. It was starting to drizzle faintly when she arrived, though she didn't head inside the house where Seth was probably still sleeping. She made for the black truck—her late father's—that was parked out front. It was a dingy old Dakota, and the material covering the seats were stained and smelled faintly of camel tobacco, but she loved it. She hadn't driven it since he'd passed.

The truck came to life immediately. She set the gear into drive and started down the rocky driveway, looking straight ahead as a group of teenagers emerged from the forest, shouting her name loudly.

Leah ignored them, smiling as the tears swept down her cheeks.

* * *

∞ Beau ∞

Once the wolves had left the property the tension eased away immediately. The entire situation had been such a rush of adrenaline, that when the threat (or the wolves) were removed, all of them seemed to exhale in relief at once. Jasper hadn't needed to extend his blanket of calm any further—not to him, nor the others.

Beau was just thankful none of them were hurt. The rest of the day passed with a sense of clarity and ease, and even Rosalie, who had initially been standoffish towards him, seemed to warm towards him as the hours bled on. By nightfall, almost all of them had drifted to their respective rooms to settle for a long evening, until finally only Beau and Jasper remained on the first floor.

"You don't have to worry so much, you know." Jasper's voice startled him.

Beau sat on their couch, eyeing the stack of books Carlisle had let him borrow from his study. He had intended on finding something good to read. It would help pass the hours and distract him until morning, when the last of the family would arrive. To say he wasn't looking forward to it would've been an understatement.

Beau looked up at Jasper, confused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"You're worrying." He pointed out. "I can feel it still—I'm sure that you have a lot that you're still going through, but it'll work itself out."

"That's how life usually works. At least," Beau's smile was almost bitter, "one can hope."

"It _will_ though." Jasper pressed further. "You might not believe it right now, but eventually the chaos will sort itself out. Things might seem like they're only getting worse, but unfortunately that's how life tends to deal your cards sometimes. You'll start to draw some good ones eventually."

"Not to sound too cynical, but my life has sort of been one bad card after another the last few months."

Ever since his blasted birthday party. Ever since Edythe had left.

Beau swallowed thickly, continuing. "The only good thing that's happened so far is that none of you guys got killed today because of a stupid mistake that _I_ made."

Jasper lingered near the post of the winding staircase, watching him with a slight frown on his face.

"You aren't dead, either." Jasper pointed out. "That's a good thing too, Beau."

Beau froze at his words, his fingertips pausing along the spine of a book he'd been skimming over. Without thinking he pulled the book from the pile, glancing at the cover curiously.

_Wuthering Heights_

By the time he looked up again, he saw that Jasper was gone already.

* * *

[End Chapter]

Hope you all enjoyed! Special thank you to May F. Oliver, a few kind Guests, as well as: LeoH, sentinel10, DxGRAYxMAN!


	5. The Reunion

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight, not making any money off this, yadda yadda.

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and reviewing guys!

**Rating:** Mature, 18+. Death, gore, and heavy romantic elements are not glazed over.

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**WAITING BETWEEN WORLDS**

∞ Chapter 5: The Reunion ∞

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The smell of smoke and incense wafted through the air, just as pungent now as it'd been hours ago when the festival had begun in Volterra.

She smelled blood as well, which wasn't surprising in the slightest, especially with how many were out celebrating. Thousands of possibilities and fragrances drifting all around her, singing and dancing and being _human_, innocently unaware as to the predator that was hiding in the shadows. And despite having not feed in almost two weeks, she didn't feel a single twinge of the usual hunger they should've stirred inside of her.

Perhaps it was because none of their scents compared to Beau's.

For a fleeting moment she wished she could immerse herself in the bouquet that was his blood, just one last time, but fate had already robbed her of the possibility. Beau was already gone, and with him he had taken what remained of both her heart and soul. Now, she could only hope that whatever gods existed—if any—would take pity on her in the afterlife. And if they did, they might yet allow her one last chance to see him again.

Edythe Cullen stepped into the sun.

* * *

∞ Beau ∞

He kept his thoughts guarded, unsure as to what would happen when he arrived, but it turned out to not matter in the end—

Edward Cullen could not hear his thoughts, just like Edythe hadn't been able to. Following the wolves' departure, the next day was filled with silent torture: Beau hadn't spent an ounce of thought planning ahead until shortly before Edward and Alice's arrival. It hadn't even occurred to him, really, the potential dangers of Edward being able to read his thoughts. He didn't want to have to explain the names of people he loved, nor did he want to find himself caught off-guard by any pressing questions that would force his hand and reveal who he was.

How could he explain that he was somehow from another timeline of the same universe, and they just happened to have striking similarities? How would they _not_ think he was crazy if he, (arguably a total stranger to them), started talking about the possibility of parallel worlds and realities?

_"You aren't the first Cullen family I've met." He'd say, pausing for dramatic effect. "I've met all of you before—in another life, or world, one which I was known as Beaufort Swan."_

Just the thought made him cringe. The voice inside his head grew louder as the hours swept by, whispering the dark, unspoken fears that lingered in his heart: what _if_ Edward heard his thoughts? Would he approach him privately, or would he immediately confront him with his family nearby, demanding for him to explain it all—

How could he explain why he was lying and _tricking_ his family? And if he did hear his thoughts and the truth was forced out of him, what then? Beau doubted they'd believe him. They would peg him as delusional, perhaps even console him with the thought that he might've been a tad _touched_ as a human being. Perhaps, like Archie Cullen, he had been gifted with sight or vision, and that was what had led him this far north to them after turning. It was utter madness just considering the possibilities, almost as maddening as the idea that the life he'd had before was real, and he'd just happened to ripple into another parallel world. The more he thought of it the more lost he felt.

By the time morning rolled around, Beau didn't even realize he was still seated on the couch with _Wuthering Heights_ propped in his lap. He'd read the same chapter four times now and hadn't progressed any further. It wasn't until Jasper and Emmett joined him, announcing that they were going to go hunting, that Beau finally managed to escape the impending doom that was approaching. Beau joined them without a second thought, losing himself for a short while to bloodlust.

And when they returned—after several hours of being the target of Emmett's endless guffawing and jokes, most of which had been targeted at his 'preferences' for hunting (_"you prefer deer? **Deer**?"_), as well as his apparently poor tactics (_"I guess I can check 'seeing a bull set loose in a China shop' off my bucket list"_—though even Beau hadn't been able to choke back his laughter at this one, and even Jasper cracked a grin)—they had already arrived.

Both Edward and Alice.

Beau had been building himself up to an onslaught of emotion the moment he saw either of them. Out of all the Cullens, aside from Edythe, he had been closest to Archie. And then there was Edward himself, or Edythe's proposed replacement—something he didn't think was truly possible. However much Edward might be _similar_ to Edythe, he argued in his head, they still weren't the same person—

And yet they were. They both were.

All the stitches in his heart were cut open in a matter of seconds. Luckily for him, he'd only had a few to begin with, and managed to keep his composure for the most part. He'd grown accustomed to the gaping hole in his heart since Edythe had left him, and also when Julie—who was the only person that had helped him begin to heal after the Cullens left—had also cut him from her life.

It made it no less painful to see the most important person in his life in the face of a man, however.

Coppery hair, perfect, pale skin, and warm golden eyes. Like butterscotch, or topaz. He was an Adonis in the flesh. His voice was melodic and gentle, throwing him back through his hazy human memories to when he'd first met Edythe Cullen. Edward Cullen, while different from her, was still her twin in every way.

He could see her in his curious eyes and tentative smile. Several hyperventilating seconds later, that smile twisted into a look he'd seen before: confusion, frustration, then shock.

_'You can't hear this, can you?'_

Edward's bewildered expression told him no, he couldn't.

Alice, unaware as to the crisis her brother was going through, embraced him with open arms.

"You're Beau!" She danced towards him, all grace and long legs. Her pixie haircut brought focus to her heart-shaped face, particularly her brilliant smile. "My name's Alice."

If she was surprised by his appearance, she didn't show it in the slightest. She leaned towards him and brought him into a loose hug, the top of her head hovering just below his shoulder. Before Beau could even say anything, she continued, her enthusiasm bubbling over.

"I won't lie," Alice grinned up at him, "I might've taken a peak or two after Carlisle called to let us know we had a new member of the 'family', so I knew what to expect when we got back home."

"What do you mean?" Beau asked. He felt like he was reading from a script. He knew all the lines, but he was obligated to speak them anyways. To play along. He couldn't tell if he was a good actor or not, but Alice was warming up to him just fine. There was a familiar sparkle in her eyes that reminded him eerily of Archie.

"I can see things—the future." Alice explained impatiently. She was glowing with excitement, like he was some new, unexpected present for her to unwrap. Beau found himself smiling too, unable to help himself. "It's not always easily defined, and it's prone to changing at the drop of a dime, but it helps give us an idea of what's to come."

"Though," she said curiously once releasing him, "I didn't _see_ you coming." She frowned.

'_Right_.' Beau thought to himself. _'Edythe and Archie always said he was most sensitive to visions of other vampires_.' He warily glanced back to Edward again.

That same look of frustration remained, growing more and more potent by the second. When he realized Edward was staring back at him, he looked away quickly, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. Even though Edward very obviously couldn't hear his thoughts, it felt like they were spelling out across his face for him to read like an open book.

_'Just look away_.' He pleaded silently, but another quick glance told him he was still under scrutiny. Beau felt himself growing more nervous, adding to the queasiness building inside him. It didn't help how full he was right now, practically brimming to the edge with fresh blood. He'd gorged himself to the point of feeling sick—a poor choice, one he should've learned after living in the woods for two weeks, but once he started to drink it was difficult to pull away. He didn't want to imagine how badly he'd lose it if he crossed paths with a human.

"—and of course," Alice was still talking cheerily, forcing him back to reality. It felt like his ears were popping as he tried to concentrate on what she was saying. "This is Edward."

"Edward Cullen." Edward said softly. He stepped forward finally, extending his hand in a friendly gesture. Like Beau didn't know who he was. Almost mechanically, he offered his own hand, shaking briefly before releasing him.

"My name's Beaufort—though I doubt you aren't aware of that by now." His smile felt fake, but he tried anyways.

"Beaufort, but you prefer Beau, don't you?" Edward asked in a friendly way. His eyes were still unnervingly fixated on him, searching for some clue to the mystery of the silence between his ears. Beau's hand felt like it was burning when he pulled away, nodding. It was a painful, unpleasant sensation—

_Wrong, wrong, wrong_, his body recoiled from him. Beau lost himself for several seconds, staring back at Edward with the same intense scrutiny he was being observed with. But where Edward was simply confused and bewildered, perhaps even frustrated, Beau was looking for _her_. He expected Edythe to start laughing at him any moment now,and reach up to pull away a mask she was wearing, revealing herself once and for all. Edward's perfect face remained unchanged. He kept staring at him motionlessly, his expression growing more intense, concentrating.

Beau knew he wouldn't hear him. He never would.

A peculiar sensation rippled around him suddenly: a flimsy bubble—glistening faintly, just out of sight of his direct vision, but he could see it distinctly whenever he tried to find it in his peripherals—was tightening around his body, expanding and stretching as it unfurled over him from head to toe. He became hyper-aware that his hand wasn't the only thing on fire anymore, but his heart was too. The edges kept burning and burning, until it finally snuffed out, cauterized. Cold and dead, like a vampire, the emotions draining from him.

"Beau?" A quiet, concerned voice reached for him, dragging him out of whatever dark depths he'd crawled into. Jasper had casually joined his side at some point, extending a wave of calmness in his direction. Beau glanced at him, uncertain. _How long was he standing there? Was he watching us?_ Jasper wasn't looking at him though. His eyes were only for Alice, who was discussing in a more serious tone the events that'd occurred in Volterra.

"The Volturi might've let us go for now, but they won't be forgetting what happened." She shook her head, looking at them all worriedly.

"Of course they won't." Carlisle frowned. "This is probably the most exciting thing they've had happen in decades, especially since she was so averse to their abilities."

He looked at Alice in concern. "Do you see them coming for her, Alice?"

"No—" Alice threw a weary glance at Edward suddenly. "Not right away, at least. We might be able to buy some time, but at the end of the day, we can avoid all of this if we just do what they want—"

"No." Edward interjected angrily. "We aren't turning her. Not right now."

For once, Beau didn't have to pretend he was confused. He didn't understand what they were talking about: who were the Volturi? Who were they coming for? Where was Volterra? He wracked his brain for memories, but they seemed sluggish to come to the surface, unwilling. His human memories were becoming more and more difficult to navigate through as time bled on. _Volturi_ sounded distantly familiar, but Beau couldn't recall where he'd heard it.

"What do you exactly propose then, Edward?" Alice snipped. The bubble of positivity was popped.

"When the time comes—and you said yourself that it probably won't be for _years_," Edward stressed the word sharply. Beau shivered, distinctly recalling Edythe saying something like this to him many, many times. A few more _years_ being human wouldn't matter, she'd told him once. Twice. Ten times. "I'll take her somewhere safe."

"Your plan is to play hide-and-seek?" Rosalie's beautiful face was carved in ice, just as cold as her tone. "You do realize that if they can't find her, they'll just come looking for us, right?"

It was then Beau connected the dots: whatever threat they were talking about (the Volturi, Victoria), it had to do with Isabella Swan. The 'Bella' he had heard referenced to so many times. Edward's human mate. Esme had spoken briefly of her just the night before, a shy smile on her face. To a newborn vampire who wanted nothing more than to feed on human blood (more than anything else), it must've felt strange to confide in him such a sadistic secret. Bella, the daring, brave human who Edward loved and refused to turn. Bella, who had hurt herself trying to take on a vampire by herself in Phoenix, Arizona, last summer, just to spare the rest of them from being harmed.

Bella, another version of himself in this life.

"We'll discuss this more later." Carlisle cut in before anyone else had a chance to argue. "Right now, let's get settled in. Our focus right now should be Victoria. She's an immediate threat not just to Bella but all of us here." He paused, glancing at each of them carefully, like he was seeking some form of approval from them all. There was no contest—no contest except for Rosalie. She let loose a noise of contempt, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder, but otherwise remained quiet. The rest of the Cullens appeared to be in agreement, especially Emmett, who looked positively thrilled at the idea of going on a hunt for one of their own kind. Carlisle's gaze found Beau last.

"Beau—" He started again, hesitantly this time. "You're still new to us—not just to our family but being a vampire as well. Our lifestyle isn't something that's easy to adjust to, even as a vampire who's learned to control themselves around humans."

"What he means to say." Esme held open the front door, gesturing for them to head inside. The motion felt somehow motherly to Beau, like she was ushering all her kids inside. "Is that we don't expect you to join us in this if you aren't comfortable. If you do choose to help, we won't have you going anywhere near humans for the time being." Emmett smirked and threw an obvious look towards Jasper. Beau pretended not to notice. "At least not until you've had more time to adjust and learn. But if you'd like to help by joining us on patrols, I don't think anyone would protest the extra help."

One by one he felt the eyes of six vampires turn to look at him. The blood in his gut churned unpleasantly at the attention, but it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as the hole burning into the side of his face. He didn't need to turn and look to know whose gaze it belonged to.

"It's the least I could do." Beau nodded, uncrossing his arms. Alice beamed at him, giving him much-needed strength. "Just tell me where and when, otherwise I'll stay near the house. If this Victoria is hunting after Bella," his voice dipped at her name, tasting its unfamiliarity, "then I want to help. You guys have done so much more for me than you can imagine."

Unwittingly, his eyes sought Edward's. He wanted the sincerity of his words to be felt. He wanted it almost desperately. It was the most honest thing he'd said since meeting them, and if anything needed to believable, it was this.

* * *

Beau wasn't supposed to meet Bella for the foreseeable future, and he was perfectly content with this. As painful as it had been to meet the rest of the Cullens—especially Edward and Alice—he didn't think he was ready to meet the version of himself that still had a chance at their dreams. He didn't let himself dwell on her often, even though his purpose over the next several days surrounded her. He dove into the responsibilities given to him with abnormal enthusiasm, taking any opportunity he could to escape from the house.

Correction: to escape from Edward. He wasn't Edythe, just like the others technically weren't _his_ vampires, but it made it easier to sort through his emotions and thoughts when he wasn't constantly reminded of her. There were times when he thought Edward was going to say something to him—either about his mind-reading, or the fact that he couldn't hear any of his thoughts at all—but every time they found themselves alone together they were mercifully interrupted. Beau listened intently to the conversations going on around him when he could, trying to catch some whiff of uncertainty or confusion over anything about who he claimed to be or the story he'd sold them on. Surprisingly, no one seemed at odds over him—no one except Edward, of course. And while Beau was sure that Edward had probably mentioned his lack of mental presence to Carlisle and the others by now, no one seemed quite as fixated on this as Edward himself.

The frustration in his eyes remained ever-present, but it began to abate as the hunt for Victoria took off. Nothing mattered more than Bella's safety. It helped, too, when Edward and Alice once more resumed school.

It was on a rainy day—just five days after Edward and Alice's return, completing the Cullen family reunion—that Beau finally got a moment to himself from everyone. Edward and Alice disappeared in the Volvo for school to keep up the facade of their recent return, but where secretly just attending to keep Bella and the student body safe. The good Dr. Cullen had returned to work at Forks Hospital, ready to continue his life's work of repentance; he also wanted to be ready in the event there were any humans that survived one of Victoria's attacks. Beau didn't want to imagine the horror of what a regular doctor would think if an ambulance pulled up with a vampire victim as its cargo. Esme and Emmett were patrolling the northern border near Clallam Bay, continuing eastward towards the highway that would branch further south into eastern Washington; from there, Jasper and Rosalie covered the territory all the way down to the invisible line that separated the Quileute reservation from the rest of the world.

He threw on a gray jacket after stuffing the edges of his shirt into his blue jeans, then headed out into the rain. Beau had hated Forks before, with its endless greenery and constant overcast, but it'd since grown on him, especially after turning. Hiking was no longer deplorable and navigating through the woods had become second nature to him. It helped he wasn't in constant fear of tripping over something or hitting a stray branch with his head.

He headed down the yard to the tree line, following the dirt path to the edge of the Calawah River. The last time he was here was when he had been running for his life, but now it looked peaceful, inviting even. Werewolf-free. The water gurgled loudly, breaking over the rocky edges in angry crashes. All around him Beau could make out the wildlife: the birds were singing their pretty morning songs, sunshine or not, and a herd of deer were grazing deep into the forest on the other side of the river.

Nearly an hour passed and he'd lost track of how far into the woods he'd gone. The wind beat pleasantly against his back, pushing him further east until he came to a fork in the river. After just a moment's hesitation he continued along the lower fork, hands jammed into his pockets, head tilted back to stare up at the sky. He was so lost in thought that if he hadn't casually brought his attention forward, he would've missed her altogether.

Beau froze, his body, his breathing, all of it.

She was trembling from head to toe, and while a normal person would've assumed it was due to the chilly breeze sweeping through the trailhead, he knew that wasn't the case for her. She was from the reservation, there was no doubt about that. He stared at her warily, unwilling to speak least of all breathe. If he took in a breath he might very well smell wet dog (or wet wolf, as would be the case), but a small part of him, that point-zero-one percent that couldn't _truly_ be sure of what she was, didn't dare risk it. Some of the tribe members were simply human. Not_ all_ of them were werewolves… though, the more he looked, the more Beau became certain of what she was.

His eyes swept over her, taking in her appearance. Her hair was cut into messy, unprofessional layers, like someone had taken a pair of scissors and angrily chopped all her hair off at some point; it hung against her forehead and cheeks wetly, framing her face. In some strange way, the emotion behind her 'look' somehow felt wholly unique to her—real and unaltered, like she couldn't be bothered to put on a show for anyone, even for herself. It told a story that drew him in for a second look. His eyes stole away to the rest of her face, drinking in the purse of her lips (unsmiling, but she wasn't grimacing at him at least) and a long nose, all the way up to her eyes, where he paused finally.

He was startled at the lack of hostility in them. Chocolate brown eyes watched him with very much the same confliction he was feeling, but there was something else to them that he was missing—something not so easily deciphered. For some inexplicable reason, Beau found himself fixating on the emotion. He unintentionally took a step forward to get a closer look when he realized his mistake. Beau froze again, every muscle in his body going rigid in preparation of whatever was to come and yet… She didn't move. Like him, she seemed just as paralyzed.

A roar of thunder suddenly ripped overheard, startling them both. When he looked back at her a half-second later he saw that she was trembling even harder still, drawing his attention to everything else he'd overlooked. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a white tank top. Both were soaking and clinging to her feminine figure—absolutely _clinging_ to her, he realized suddenly. The white material clung to her stomach and chest, allowing him to easily make out the supple curve of her breasts. Even against the light material, the warm coloring of her skin was just so prominent… honestly, she might as well have not been wearing it at all—

"Hello." Beau forced his eyes back up, both embarrassed at his temporary lapse of self-control, while also deeply thankful he couldn't blush any longer. A tentative taste of the air confirmed his suspicions, though thankfully the smell wasn't nearly as bad with the rain and wind blowing towards her, rather than the other way around. It was likely why he hadn't noticed her to begin with: her scent hadn't been carried towards him.

"You're the one from the other night." She spoke. Her voice trembled just like the rest of her body. "The one that was in the woods with us."

"The one that you were all hunting, you mean." Beau corrected, unable to stop the accusatory tone. Although the situation with the wolves had been 'resolved', there was no way in hell he was letting her call a spade anything other than a spade. The wolves had been _hunting_ him, it hadn't been a friendly frolic through the forest.

"Hunting, yes, sorry—that's what I meant." She made a face, her lips twisting into a grimace, like the memory of it was somehow painful for her. "I figured since we're on the same side—"

He raised a brow.

"Fine." She huffed. "Since we're _technically_ on the same side right now, with this female vampire that's trying to get at the Swan girl and all, I figured that reminding you that we had been_ hunting_ you the other night wasn't the best idea."

"Well," he frowned. "It isn't exactly something I'm going to forget anytime soon."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She asked, annoyance bleeding into her pretty voice.

"What do you _think_ it means?" Now that he was talking, Beau suddenly _couldn't_ stop talking. The calamity of emotions he'd been bottling up the last few days—hell, since he had escaped from the clutches of the wolves the first time and ran into the Cullens—rose inside him explosively, greeting her anger head-on.

"Do you think it means that I'm planning on holding onto it as a grudge or something?" He asked, taking a sideways step towards the river—not closer to her, but not further away, either. She was watching him closely, though he was doubtful she'd take her eyes off him for even a single second. "Or that I'm just making sure you remember what happened as clearly as I do: that your pack set off after me like hounds after a fox?" Beau exhaled loudly. "Pretending something else happened isn't going to change _what_ happened."

"Or," she cut in angrily, her brown eyes suddenly alive with fire. "Maybe I can't tell if you're trying to intimidate me right or just being a jackass."

Beau opened and closed his mouth several times, a flood of unspoken, unfiltered words burning the tip of his tongue. Their burns didn't quiet him so much as _she_ did. For how angry he felt—angry over what had happened in the woods, angry at how lost he felt right now—it felt shallow in comparison to the hurt he saw in her eyes. It lasted just a few seconds, but it was long enough or Beau to see it, which meant he couldn't ignore it. He held his tongue just long enough to let the emotions inside him deflate inside his chest, and once he could breathe properly again, he continued.

"Sorry." Beau said roughly. "It's been a long last few days. Well, a long last few months, really." He was surprised that he meant it, but he did. It was difficult enough dealing with his own emotions, and taking it out on her—a mostly innocent outsider to his situation—felt wrong and dirty. She didn't say anything else at first, but the trembling seemed to ease slightly at his apology.

"It's fine. I'm Leah, by the way. We met the other day in the clearing." She said offhandedly. Beau remembered her, of course: the gray she-wolf, the one that acted so strangely. He didn't comment on it, instead nodding at her. Leah took that as encouragement to continue. "It was my brother that you came across at the store that night. He didn't realize what you were doing—he thought you were looking for a poor sod to feed off from the bar across the street."

_'And there it is_.' Beau thought grimly, the guilt inside of him expanding immediately. He could still hear the resounding _pops_ of bones crunching inside his head, loud and clear as day.

"That wasn't the case at all, I promise." The words flowed easier this time now that he was breathing normally again. "I didn't have any money on me, and for the sake of not hurting any of the humans nearby, I waited until it was dark and looked empty before I went in to get new clothes."

"Before you broke in, you mean." Leah corrected him, crossing her arms over her chest. The pointed look she gave him made his lips twitch upwards—almost into a smile, but not quite.

"Broke in, right." He conceded. One for one, then. "I broke into the store to get some clothes. I'm still adjusting to this life, and I'm taking all precautions to avoid killing anyone unnecessarily."

It was quiet for a minute or so, both feeding off the other's energy as the air settled. Beau rested near a sweeping pine tree, leaning back against its rough bark. It was quiet for so long that his eyes strayed from Leah, instead watching the water rush by.

"So." She spoke again, this time much more hesitantly. "You're a new bloodsuck—er, vampire, right?"

Beau glanced back at her carefully, noticing the sudden shift in tone. Was he mistaking it? Her eyes were still cautious, and she was still trembling slightly, but... was that a note of softness to her voice he'd heard? No, he had to have been imagining it…

He sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"And you're not out patrolling with the others so close to town because…" she trailed off slowly, realization hitting her.

"Because I don't want to hurt anyone." Beau said simply, filling in the gaps.

If Beau hadn't been watching her, he would've missed her taking a step towards him. She was angled to face him where he lingered by the river's edge, arms crossed over her chest—no doubt, he realized, to cover herself. Beau quickly looked up at her face again. Even from this far away, he was positive he could make out a faint blush on her cheeks.

"You really are just like the rest of them, then, the Cullens."

"If by _that_ you mean I refuse to feed on humans, then yes." He said more quietly now, though he was sure she heard him still. "Just because I am a monster doesn't mean I want to be one."

Another lapse of silence filled the air between them, though this time it felt different. Calmer. The storm brewing between them passing temporarily, allowing a moment of peaceful reprieve. And Beau watched as, bit by bit, Leah began to tremble less and less, until finally the moment came when it seemed stopped altogether.

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[End Chapter]

Thanks for reading and reviewing guys! Special thanks to: a few guests, LeoH, May F. Oliver, DxGRAYxMAN!


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